Good Enough
by Pellaaearien
Summary: Siyana is a whore, a plaything of the Imperials. It's all she ever has hope of being. One night she services a very special sky pirate who, in trying to escape his fate, changes her own forever. This is her story.
1. Meeting the Patron

**Disclaimer: **I am not affiliated with Square-Enix or any of its members. I do not own any of the Final Fantasy franchise, much less XII, and no money is being made from this story.

**A/N: **Here is yet another Balthier/OC fic! Yes, I'm sure they've been overdone, but I tried to make mine different. I have tried to make it as accurate as possible, hence many hours of scouring the Internet for info, but if you spot a mistake, please don't hesitate to (politely) let me know. Certainly I'm a novice to Final Fantasy in general, not just XII. Updates will be erratic because I'm writing as I play. Just a friendly warning: this fic is rated M for horizontal love scenes. It is not for persons with delicate sensibilities. If any of you have read Jaqueline Carey's Kushiel novels, you will note many similarities between her books and my story, at least in the beginning. Also, for any readers who have come here hoping to read another Book Magic fic, I'm terribly sorry to disappoint you. This has nothing to do with Falling Into You, my other story on this site. The sequel to that is coming along, but slowly. Please be patient. So without further ado, please, enjoy!

* * *

**Good Enough**

_A FFXII Fanfiction_

I stood in the scented dimness, waiting for the patron. It was a ritual long-practised, one that I had followed many times before. I had lit the scented candles – the scent of Galbana lilies suffused the room - turned down the sheets, and sprinkled petals on the floor. The barest requirements attended to, nothing more. I wore a thin silk robe that was very translucent. I was ready.

A knock came at the door; not the careless pleasantry of a patron, but the coded taps of a servant. There had to have been a request.

I opened the door to find my apprentice Psellia with a tray in her hands. It held a decanter set in clear crystal. The wine inside was a rich blood-red, and the glass that accompanied it was rimmed with gold. This was our finest set – my patron had paid dear for his luxury. I began to look forward to a profit tonight.

Psellia's voice, whispering in my ear, confirmed my thoughts.

"He's very rich, and handsome, too. He's wearing a brocade vest and just throws gil away like it's nothing. Yet have a care." I took the tray, looking questioningly at Psellia. "Why?" I asked.

The girl shrugged. "He's got a dangerous air about him, for all he's well-spoken."

I inclined my head in thanks. Too few of my patrons knew how to string two words together – a well-spoken one would do nicely. And a dangerous air could be good, too… if channelled to the right effect.

I closed the door. Psellia was one of my finest students. But she was young, too young, to be doing such a thing as this.

Come to it, I, at nineteen, was also too young for such work. But after the War, my parents had lost everything. They sold me into indenture, to a special "friend" of my father's, and here I had been, ever since.

I placed the tray on the bedside table and knelt on the cushion by the door, robe arranged neatly around me, eyes downcast, waiting for my patron.

I heard the sound of slow, measured footsteps coming down the hall. Some patrons were slow and unsure as they entered the women's quarters. This one was not, confident in his decision and what he wanted. I liked that. Psellia's words came back to me. 'Handsome, wearing a brocade vest…' I smiled beneath the curtain of my hair. Perhaps I would enjoy tonight after all. Unless, of course, his confident tastes led him to more… violent pleasures. I had known many of those patrons, too. But I had no control over those I served.

He knocked, once or twice, then let himself in nonchalantly. I smiled as I glimpsed his silhouette through my lowered lashes. I knew his type. He was the kind of man who thought himself irresistible to all woman-kind, who thought a few choice words would have them fawning at his feet. I told myself that I would not. I would be different. It was a pathetic, not to mention dangerous, rebellion. But it was the only thing I could do.

My patron halted in front of me, and I had a stunning view of his costly boots and of his muscular legs shown off to full advantage in his form-fitting pants. I began to question my own decision.

"Good evening, my lord," I said, infinitely proud that my voice did not shake. "How may I please you?"

My patron sank gracefully into a crouch. "Let's have a look at you and we'll see," he said. His voice was light, cultured, and elegant. A cool, slender hand adorned with rings lifted my head gently up, and I was looking full into the face of my patron. First were the eyes, wide-set and deep, mysterious pools gazing into mine. A nose, straight and crisp, almost challenging in the midst of his face, his perfectly shaped brows, made for arching, sloping gracefully into it. And his lips, full and sensual, a mouth made for wine and love, the two things he had come for tonight… I found myself wondering how his kiss would feel on me – anywhere, not just my lips. I stared into this perfect face, my resolution heavy in my mind. It would have been easier if he hadn't been so damned _beautiful_. Lace cuffs brushed my cheek as he guided me to stand, his eyes kept intently on mine. My breath caught in my chest, and I was suddenly and desperately afraid of _failure_, of being unable to please him, something I had never felt around a patron before.

"You have very green eyes," my patron said, a seemingly neutral observation that induced a clench of fear somewhere around my midsection nevertheless.

_Stupid_, came an unwanted nag somewhere in the back of my desire, _you're doing just what you said you wouldn't._

But it was just so gods-curst _hard!_ Whoever this man was, his self-assurance was clearly justified. He turned away from me, then, and the tension in my thighs eased, though the icy fear grew greater.

"Does that displease you, my lord?" I asked, both anticipating and dreading his response.

He did not deign to answer at first, instead drawing further away, pouring a glass and downing it in one motion. It almost hurt to look at him overlong. He let out a satisfied sigh and I almost sighed with him. I caught myself just in time.

"It was just an observation," he said, pouring himself another glass, slower this time. "And even if I did mind, what in Ivalice could _I_ do about it?"

An answer came to me, and in a deceptively calm voice I made it, anything to keep the conversation going, to keep his voice in my ears: "You could request another servant, my lord." I trembled inside at the seemingly blasé denial of everything I had felt up to this point. The challenge hung in the air between us. My patron studied me, and under his cool, knowledgeable look my thighs began to heat once more. Forgetting I was standing, I lowered my gaze beneath my lashes till I was staring again at his boots. Such fine boots! Yet clearly stained and travel-worn. Whoever this man was, he hadn't got all his gil by sitting in an office.

"No… I think not," he said slowly, walking near me again until his scent surrounded me and I could smell the sharp refreshment of the wine in his glass. His fingers cupped my chin and raised it upwards again, no less gently than the last time. He was an abnormally patient patron.

"Chin up, girl," he murmured. "I am lighter quite a bit of gil for tonight and I intend to enjoy it, not to have someone cringe every time she looks at me." He took another sip from his glass, stepping back only a little.

His scent was fainter now, tantalizing me. _If you want it, come get it. _But I would not give in to temptation, would not follow him around like a dog on a leash. I would be strong.

"What, then, is your pleasure, my lord?" I asked him. He shook a long, slender finger before my face as he took another sip.

"Well, for one thing, less of this 'my lord' business. I don't like it."

"But… my – " His fingers rested gently on my lips, effectively silencing me.

"Uh-uh-uh," he chided, eyes sparking mischievously. "You have…" he paused for a moment, thinking. "Thirty seconds to come up with a better ending to that sentence." He waited.

By ten seconds, I had thought of what I was going to say, and for the next twenty I indulged myself by just staring at him.

All too soon, his fingers were removed from my lips and he stepped back, waiting for me to speak.

"But… my patron, it's required by the House. Familiarity is weakness, here."

"Is that so?" My patron stroked his chin, eyes pensive. "Well, I don't believe I particularly like 'patron', either. Have you aught else to offer, girl?"

For all he appeared to be merely three years older than I, he insisted on treating me like a child. With other patrons, I wouldn't have minded, but in his mouth it suddenly became a mocking term, indicative of the thought that I was not old enough for him.

I summoned up all the courage I could muster.

"It's Siyana," I said.

"A pretty name to go with pretty eyes." He toasted me with the remainder of wine in his glass. "Here's to you, Siyana."

My breath caught at the sound of my name in his mouth, even more so at the revelation that he found any part of me pretty. This, coupled with the courage I had gathered that had not wholly left me, made me daring.

"Well, sir, now that you know my name, may I not have the pleasure of yours?"

"My, we are a bold one, aren't we?" he said, pouring himself another glass. "And 'sir' is even worse – it makes me feel old." He sighed – even his sigh was beautiful. I could imagine clouds of mithril coming from his mouth as he sighed. "Very well. I suppose there's nothing for it." Taking a handkerchief from his breast pocket, he let it flutter in his hand as he swept me a gallant bow.

"Balthier, at your service," he said, looking up and fixing me with a mischievous grin. "But I'd really much rather that you were at mine."

It struck me as odd, then, as soon as he said it, how patient he had been about his purpose. This was his third glass of wine and he had only just started trying to win me. Most patrons wouldn't have bothered and would have tumbled me twice already.

Balthier offered the glass to me. I shook my head violently, taking a step backwards in disbelief.

"No… no, my – Balthier. It would not be right." My breath caught on his name, too.

He whistled appreciatively. I felt puzzlement come to my face.

"Well, as one of only a dozen people I've ever known as to actually pronounce my name properly upon first meeting, you certainly deserve it," he said. "People seem to insist on putting the emphasis on the first syllable. It's incredibly vulgar. Go on, take it. What's the matter?" he asked, because I had refused the glass again.

"You paid for that wine," I said. "To take a glass from my patron's own hand… No. It would be too familiar."

"Familiarity again, is it?" Balthier reflected, arching an eyebrow. "Considering what this house is selling it's a little selective on what it dishes out. I paid for you, too," he said, in a voice that was not quite jesting, not quite serious. I shook my head again.

"It's not the same. The wine is for your pleasure, same as I."

"Well, I say it's the same," Balthier argued, pushing the glass into my hand. "It's the height of rudeness to drink in front of a lady and I don't like it when my bedfellows are completely sober. Besides," he said, and the little twinkle in his eyes returned, "I'd like to see to it that you don't go entirely without pleasure yourself, tonight," he grinned, "Siyana."

I took a sip of the wine. It was tart and sweet and very refreshing. I chanced a look at Balthier, who nodded approvingly for me to finish the rest. I did so with relish. I was slightly unused to alcohol, it being a luxury I was unable to afford, and the candles grew a bit brighter as the glass emptied.

"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?" Almost without my noticing, his arm was around me. He took the glass from my suddenly nerveless hand and set it gently on the table.

"Now," he murmured, so low that I was not so much hearing his words as feeling them, "did you leave any for me?"

And his lips were on mine, slow and sensuous, just as I had imagined. His tongue gained admittance, probing my mouth. Of their own volition, my hands lifted to cup his face.

That kiss! If it were the first and final kiss of my life I would be no poorer for it. Other patrons had kissed me, of course, at various times during their pleasure – some absentmindedly and clumsily, as though they needed a place to put their face. Some were even passing good. But never before had I been kissed with such consummate skill, with such clear purpose. That kiss was a prelude to lovemaking, and a promise of things to come. And there in his arms, I yearned.

His lips left me panting, half-suffocated and yet longing for more. I pursued his retreating face, mindless of my resolve, but he stopped me with a hand.

"Your turn," he said. "Make it worth my while." And I was filled with desire to be deserving of that kiss.

Undressing is one of the first arts one learns in the House – it is the most awkward and therefore most practised of our talents. I made quick work of the buckles of Balthier's vest and started on the buttons of his shirt, kissing each little patch of skin I revealed as I moved upward – little promises, nothing more.

I had just undone the clasp of his belt when he slipped my robe from my shoulders in one smooth motion, fingers traversing the channel between my breasts as I slowly, inch by inch, unveiled his manhood… and was not disappointed.

I commenced the arousement, fingertips starting with the trail of hair below his navel and following where it led. I watched the red patterns of desire start in the wake of my fingers as he gripped my unbound hair in both hands.

As I returned from my long detour around his thighs and reached his phallus, he twitched, and pressed against me. When I kissed him there, I could feel his hardness. Moving my lips away, I caused a tiny, beautiful droplet of seed to form at his crown. I had him in the palm of my hand, or rather, in my mouth. I savoured the taste of his sweat, fresh and sweet, spiced with carnal desire. My hips began to thrust against him.

He groaned as I finished and began to work my way upwards again, planting kisses of every part of him.

"Gods, you're good," he whispered, and my flame of triumph only made me want him more. I finished with a kiss of my own on his lips.

I did not have as perfect a mouth as his, but I was practised in the art of kissing. Our tongues twined as I felt the pressure of his hands at the small of my back, then only the tips of his fingers, lightly, brushing my buttocks and making me shiver before tracing a path upward, ever so softly, leaving a tingle of desire in his wake, lifting the mass of my hair and letting it fall around my neck and shoulders in a shimmering cascade. I came up for breath and smiled at him. Those deep eyes were dark with desire. For a fleeting instant, Balthier almost seemed at a loss for words. But the moment passed.

"My," he remarked, taking my hands in his, "I seem to be falling behind, don't I?"

"If you say so," I replied, trying to hide my impatience. Balthier was indeed unlike any other man I had known. We stood naked before each other, fair bursting with desire, and even my initial resistance had been overwhelmed, yet still he waited. I followed the patterns of the candlelight over his skin. If it were permitted, I would have had him then. But only Balthier's desires mattered.

He stepped away, then, and in a horrific flash of understanding I knew what he was about.

He wanted to make me beg for it.

I saw laid bare the subtle game he had played ever since entering the room. He had reined me in without my noticing it. I had given him too much, too soon, and he knew he had me. I hated him for it, and hated my desire which mounted with every second of my hate. For all that his phallus nearly touched his belly, he kept me at bay. Of a sudden, his cruelty was revealed.

"You…" I stopped myself abruptly. I had almost insulted a patron! He turned back to me with a look of bland interest. "Yes?"

"Is this just a game to you?" I asked angrily. "Or should I just put on my robe and serve you more wine?"

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked curiously, turning towards me. It infuriated me further to see his leaping shaft without being able to exploit it, any trace of spontaneity vanishing. "When have I ever given you an indication that it was otherwise?" His tone was still one of light curiosity.

"When you paid for me, mayhap?" I replied, in as scathing a tone as I could muster. "When you told me that you did not want me to go without pleasure also this night? You're 'falling behind', so you just give up?"

He raised his hands, whether in impatience or surrender, I couldn't tell.

"_Your _pleasure? Forgive me, Siyana, but I was under the impression that _my _pleasure was what mattered here," he said wryly, ignoring my other two points.

I was trapped, I now decided, trapped in a room with this beautiful demon of desire.

"You are forgiven," I said coldly, crossing my arms so he wouldn't see my firming nipples. There was no way for him to know I would forgive him anything, no matter how insincere he sounded.

Balthier looked at me for long moments, then, as though seeing me for the first time. And then he did an extraordinary thing.

He knelt. Before me.

Taking my hand, he kissed it gently, sweetly. His breath on my skin was like fire.

"Thank-you, Siyana," he said, looking up to meet my eyes. "You won't regret it."

I stared back in wonder. Here again was the same Balthier that had offered me the wine. It was almost as though he had forgotten who I was for a while.

But my mind was forcibly diverted from its course when Balthier, still kneeling, began to kiss me, in exactly the way I had kissed him. He was promising again, and I was helpless to resist.

I shivered as his tongue drew closer and closer to my nether lips, and then his kisses were inside me, exploring and flicking, and I trembled like a leaf in his arms. He touched the pearl in the folds of my flesh and I arched against him, coursing with desire and the fear that I would take him if he didn't do something soon. He grinned and began to draw back, standing.

I would no longer play this bizarre and pointless game of cat-and-mouse, yet neither would I ask him for aught. He knew, and his eyes flashed in triumph, but I grabbed him.

"Oh no, you don't," I whispered, pulling him towards me, "It's my turn now."

He might have thought I had given it all early on, but I had one more card to play. I reached down and did what no respectable woman should even think of doing. I was worried – had I pushed it too far? But I was rewarded.

He collapsed on the bed and groaned.

"The Fates enjoy having me as their plaything," he murmured. I did not know what he meant by it, nor did I ask. Perhaps if I had, things would not have turned out as they did. Balthier himself gave no indication of having spoken, but took my hand, drawing me down to him. Slowly, so slowly. His presence I felt as I had never felt it before: it was tangible and soft. He drew me down to his chest and I lay against it, wondering that our heartbeats were so alike.

With infinite care, he shifted, tumbling me in a motion that was more like a caress than an upset. And somehow as he did so, he sheathed himself to the hilt in me.

I caught my breath, it was so sudden. One moment, I was lying atop him, the next he was above me, and inside me, too. It was not an unpleasant feeling.

Not even then did he start, but looked at me in that moment that lasted an eternity. I would almost have thought he were asking permission, but that was nonsense. Not Balthier. He leaned down to whisper in my ear.

"The anticipation makes it all the sweeter, doesn't it, my dear?" he asked, before spending himself in me.

And he was right. I could have killed him for it, but he was right. Gods, it was sweet! I rode him like a wave, cresting higher and higher until I came, shuddering, to climax. I wrapped my legs around him, clinging to his back, and gasped out two words.

"Don't stop."

And he didn't, not for a very long time.

* * *

**A/N:** So there you have it! The first chapter. Please review and tell me what you thought of it. Should I continue? Exams are coming up for me, but I should be able to get the next chapter up before they start.

P.S. - Yes, I know Balthier doesn't wear boots, but... sometimes I have a real issue with those half-shoe let things he wears. Maybe he just equipped boots because of the Barium Passage. Who knows?


	2. The Other Side of Night

**Disclaimer: **I would ne'er gainsay Square-Enix.

**A/N:** Here is the second chapter, as promised. This is where the majority of Kushiel similarities are. Kudos to whoever can recognise them - not that it's too hard for those who've read the books. The third will be up soonish. Please review, I would like to know what people think of this story! Corrections are welcomed, flames are not. Now please, enjoy!

* * *

Sated, I lay languidly beside Balthier, feeling the urgency of my desire fade away, and in its place was peace. I raised myself on my elbow and gazed at him in the scented air. To this day, the scent of Galbana still brings me back to that night, and I suspect (thought he has never admitted it) that it is the same with Balthier. In the darkness above me he had looked nearly feral, with his sharp nose and shaped sideburns, but now as he lay, arms behind his head, eyes half-open, he seemed tranquil, and I could see no trace of his former cruelty in him. I let my fingers play aimlessly across his chest, smiling sleepily.

"Do you judge me worthy, Balthier?" I asked softly. I had given as good as I had gotten, yet I was still filled with the need to be good enough.

The muscle beneath my hands stiffened, and Balthier's eyes shot wide open. The air between us abruptly changed from contentment to shock and suspicion. His hand darted from behind his head and clamped hard around my wrist, startling me to stillness. There was suddenly a very different strength in the callused palms that had once caressed me – a terrified and desperate strength that frightened me. I now knew what the perceptive Psellia had meant. _'He's got a dangerous air about him…'_

"What did you say?" His voice was rough and raw, and his grip tightened painfully. His pupils were dilated in alarm. I wondered what had wrought this immense change in him.

"I… I merely asked whether you deemed me worthy, my lord."

He let go of my wrist and visibly relaxed, reclining again.

"Balthier. And I suppose you were." His tone was once again smooth and nonchalant, as if the tension of a moment ago had never existed. I relaxed as well, and my fear was replaced by curiosity. What had I said that alarmed him so? But there was no way to ask him. There being naught else to do, I continued my massage of his chest, feeling the last of the tension melt away.

"A proper little courtesan, aren't you?" he asked, lazily moving his hand to caress my back, pausing when he reached the raised lines occupying the small of my back.

"I noticed this before. What is it?"

I put my hand over his, over the tattoo of stylized feathers and Galbana lilies. The lilies were like to my personal signature – every woman in the House had one. Even my jacket had a stylized lily blossom on the back, so that I would be advertising my services wherever I went – not that I was permitted to go very far.

"It's my mark. When one enters the service of this House, they choose a pattern to be inked. All the money one earns goes toward completing it, and when it's finished, one is free to go." I lay face down under the guidance of his hands, that he might have a better look at it.

"It's half-finished," he said, tracing the lines of a lily with his finger. "How long have you had it?"

I smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Two years. Since the war." Balthier did not comment. The war had destroyed many lives, set many fleeing its deadly embrace to seek work wherever they could. The story was a common one, and I was one of many. Too many.

"Do you work every night?" He sounded surprised. I shrugged.

"I get a night off every now and then, when patrons are lacking. And we all work in shifts so we get some sleep. You get your name-day off, too… if you remember."

"So, every night," Balthier responded, cutting through my explanation. "It must be fairly costly."

I wondered if he knew just how costly it was, price having nothing to do with it. His hands stilled in their caress of my back. He knew. But it was too much to hope that he cared. I told him how much it would cost to finish. He let out a low whistle.

"The price on my head is hardly more than that. Why so much?"

I looked at him in shock. "Your head? You're a criminal?" It mattered not – I'd served worse. But perhaps I would now get closer to sounding the mystery of this man.

"You wound me, Siyana," Balthier said, pressing a hand to his breast in mock pain. Every move he made was so exquisite, so extravagant! "I am a sky pirate. Sooner or later, it all adds up to the same thing, or at least the head-hunters seem to think so, tragedy though it be."

I was seized by a thrill of excitement and terror at the thought of bounty-mongers hunting him – excitement at his cavalier attitude towards death and the adventures he must have; fear of him being caught, his freedom taken away. I would give anything to keep that from happening.

As if he read my thoughts, Balthier gave me a wry smile. "Why do you ask? Thinking of claiming some of that bounty yourself? Even a part share would go a ways toward your mark."

I shook my head fervently. "Never," I said, knowing I had given myself away. This strange game of give-and-take between us was unlike any I had ever known. In order to cover up the slip, I added: "Besides, I've had hardly any training. I'm barely level 5. Not exactly your typical bounty hunter."

He chuckled. "Your typical bounty hunter has also never had me completely at their mercy. You, however…" The memory surfaced in his eyes as it came into my mind. I laughed inwardly at that – who had been at whose mercy I knew quite well, and Balthier did, too. "I'm frankly surprised you'd never heard of me before," he continued

"Except to run a few errands, I'm not permitted to leave these walls until I complete my mark. They try to keep us as sheltered from the outside world as possible. Innocence sells."

Balthier made no reply. So he was a sky pirate. I envisioned him sailing the skies in an airship, owing allegiance to no crown or council, and thought him the luckiest of men.

"What brings you to Rabanastre?" I asked. "This House in particular."

"If you must know, I'm fresh come from a stint in Nalbina dungeons that I'd rather forget. And this happened to be the only establishment of its kind in the city that I'd never tried. After tonight, I'll wonder why."

"Nalbina! You escaped that dreadful place! How?"

He told me the tale, most likely exaggerated and much embellished, but it enthralled me nevertheless; the story of a pit fight with three brutal Seeq guards and then an escape through a secret series of tunnels just in time to avoid Judge Gabranth and an army of Imperials and bounty hunters, all hungry for his head. The things he told me about strange creatures called Mimics and a fiery horse were enough to make my blood run chill.

"What do you equip, anyway?" Balthier asked me after a lengthy rendition of his battle with the Firemane. He reclined beside me once again, by which I took to understand I was to begin massaging him again. I did so with relish – I loved the feel of his skin. I studied him from under my hair. He would equip a gun, I decided. It cut straight to the point, unerring. He was a man who was accustomed to hitting what he aimed for, whether it be a wolf in the Estersand or a woman's heart. It was the perfect weapon for a sky pirate – shoot and run, you'd never realise he was there. As for me…

"Daggers. Just daggers. Some magicks, too, White mostly." I sighed, disappointed in my own lack of skill. "My father was going to start me on swords two years ago, when I had accumulated enough licence points, but…" I shrugged, knowing he would feel the motion. "Things change. If I did decide to hunt you, you'd pick me off from a mile away."

His eyes opened slightly. "Whatever gave you that idea? I never told you what I equipped."

"I could tell. You seem like a gun kind of person."

"Perceptive of you," he said, pulling me down beside him. Whatever I might have responded was soon lost.

* * *

It was morning – the long night was over. Oddly, I felt conflicted. I was exhausted, but I wanted the night to go on forever. I had never felt conflicted about a patron before. But then, I had never met a man quite like Balthier.

He stretched and sighed, rising to put on his breeches. I stole my last glimpse of his manhood from beneath my lashes. I nearly wept at the knowledge that I would never see him again after this. After he had made such an impact on my life. I supposed he was my first love, as such things are reckoned. And now I would lose him, as all must lose their first loves.

I too, rose, and began to dress, putting on the chemise I used for every-day wear. I was quite proud of my attire: my jacket was green as my eyes and made of leather, sporting laces at my bodice. It cut away halfway to reveal my transparent lace chemise, and was abundant in cleavage. I liked that. I also wore a short skirt made of black leather, with a slit up the side to allow free range of movement. My boots were russet brown and matched my hair, reaching up past my knees. My hair brushed the small of my back, and normally I pulled it back into a tight braid for convenience. My daggers rested low on my hips in their sheathes.

By the time I had finished fastening my boots (they had large silver buckles I was very proud to be able to afford), Balthier had finished the last of the wine. He looked at me for a very long time, so long I wasn't quite sure what he wanted.

"Did you enjoy last night, Siyana?" he asked. The flippancy was gone from his voice – this was a more serious question than it seemed.

I nodded. "Yes, Balthier. I enjoyed it very much." Balthier inclined his head, apparently satisfied. He handed me his wine glass. There was still a tiny amount left in the bottom. I took it without question, my thighs heating as our hands touched, even though I was so exhausted. I drank the last of the dregs, surreptitiously leaving a bit on my lips. I put the glass down carefully as Balthier moved in, wolfishly grinning. Pressing me up against the table, his lips found mine in a kiss that still managed to take my breath away. I gave back the wine I had drunk and then some. Our tongues twined and I let him romance me, knowing full well it would be the final time. On the other side of night, it didn't matter whether or not he knew he had me. I would never see him again, and I would rather he knew I loved him before he left me forever. Feelings are odd, that way.

Balthier took his eyes off me for an instant in order to rummage in his purse. I knelt, the instinct ingrained in me when receiving gifts from a patron. Balthier's face was hidden from me for a moment. His hands entered my sight and deposited a noble's ransom in gold and jewels into my lap. I knew without having to count that it was the exact amount I had told him I needed to complete my mark. Balthier had remembered. But it was too much. I could not afford to be this much in his debt.

I looked up in shock as Balthier stepped back, an inscrutable look on his face.

"Where did you get all this?" I whispered. It was not the question I had meant to ask, but the one on my lips was so fragile it had to be cultivated.

"I did tell you I sacked the Dalmascan treasury, didn't I? Where better for it to go than to a Dalmascan in need? Including all the loot from crossing Nalbina and the Estersand, I have all that to spare and more. You're free now. What you do with your life is up to you."

"But why? Spending all this gil on just one night…"

"Ah, yes, my partner may very well have my head for it when she learns of what I've done with my share of the spoils. But she will not think it ill-done to free someone from such a life. Unless…" he gave me a shrewd look, "you'd rather stay?"

"No!" The word was out of my lips before I could recall thinking it. I didn't have to. I was sick of this life, sick of poverty, sick of unpredictable patrons, sick of my own physical lasciviousness and weariness. But still…

"Well, then," Balthier replied, as though this settled everything. Then he looked at me and I saw nothing but seriousness in his eyes. This was such a change that all I could do was look back.

"Siyana, do you want the honest truth?" I could but nod.

"I personally don't care for the notion of humes being treated like chattel," Balthier said, shrugging. "There is far too much of it in this world for my taste, and you get enough of it through the Occupation. You don't need it in your own life, too. Especially for someone as pretty as you."

I could feel my cheeks reddening and embarrassment made my voice sharp.

"Balthier, please. Stop this façade. I'm just the latest whore you've seduced and we both know it. I find it difficult to believe that you do this for every woman you choose to spend the night with. You should also know that the mistress of the House takes almost all of what we make – that's why it takes so long to complete a mark. There's no way to hide it – they search the rooms. You'd just as well not waste your time."

Unable to keep Balthier's eyes during my tirade, I had looked away. When it was met with silence, I reluctantly looked back and was surprised to see genuine concern in Balthier's eyes.

"You see, this is exactly what I meant." He sighed, moving in again to take my hand. "Do you trust me, Siyana?"

In spite of myself, I did. Implicitly. I forced myself to meet his eyes. "Yes, Balthier. I do."

"Good. That will make this a lot easier." He began to take the coins from my lap and placed them in my cleavage. Even as my breath caught at the touch of his hands in my breasts, I fought the urge to roll my eyes. _Does he think no one's tried this before? _Balthier glanced wryly at me as if guessing my thoughts. "Just trust me," he said steadily, giving no indication of feeling considering he was buried waist-deep in my cleavage. His voice was so calm and steady I almost believed him. I allowed myself to imagine walking out of the door of the House, a free woman. It was a good feeling.

It took some time, but at length all of Balthier's gift resided in my brassiere. I did not have to look to tell how conspicuous it seemed – my chest seemed five times heavier for the weight. Balthier leaned back and surveyed his handiwork. Sure enough, there were lumps and bumps all over my breasts. There would be no hiding my unexpected windfall. Balthier, however, seemed satisfied. I was unable to stand without dislodging the quantities of gil stuck to my front, so Balthier slid a skilled hand around my waist and assisted me to my feet. He led me to the bed and laid me down gently on it, covering me with the sheets. The lumps could still be seen. Bewildered, my arms pinned to my sides, I looked up at Balthier. His expression was one approaching wistfulness, but not quite, the closest thing to regret I knew I would ever see on his face.

"Goodbye, Siyana," he said. "Live well." He kissed me, bringing back reminiscences of our kisses of before so that I nearly wept. A tickle moving slowly down my cheek was a mute testimony to how close it had come. Balthier wiped my tear away with surprising gentleness.

"Trust me," he said again, and went to the door. I followed him with my eyes, hoping that he knew just how much I believed in him. Turning back again, he said, almost as an afterthought: "You were wrong, you know. About you." He lingered there for an instant, then he was gone.

I held my breath and listened, knowing that if I remained very still I could hear him at the entrance. Out of pure longing, mayhap, to hear his voice, I succeeded.

His tone was so different from what I had known; angry, upset. There was the intelligence that I had sensed, but it was sharp, so that it seemed he whet his tongue upon the object of his ire. Who happened to be (I was pleased to hear) Mistress Flamenca.

"A most grievous insult has been done me by your House, madam. You are richer a great deal of gil for my stay, yet you allowed me to be served by faulty goods!" I could only assume he meant me.

"I assure you, your servant was as whole as any in this House. I would not deign to allow even the least of my customers to be served by anything less." Flamenca's wheedling voice replied smoothly to Balthier's accusations. My heart leapt within me that I would never have to hear that voice again.

"Well, and imagine my surprise when this morning, I saw by the light of day that her breasts had a hideous deformity?" His voice was sharper now, but because of my distance I could not detect the nuances in it that would alert me to his emotions. I doubted the Flamenca could have done so. At the same time, my mind seethed. _What in the Hells are you doing, Balthier? Why draw attention to the fact? _For a moment the Flamenca was silent, then she wheedled:

"Of a surety, she will be examined and put out."

"Naturally. And, of the same surety, you will understand that I did not pay her, seeing as I'd spent enough gil on her already. A shame. She was such a pretty girl."

"Indeed, my lord, and I can promise you nothing of the kind will happen again. But I would hope that it has not affected your kind patronage of this House?"

I could almost see the self-satisfied smirk on Balthier's face as he responded: "Madam, I would be lying if I did not tell you I will think long and hard before patronizing any similar establishment in future, not just your own. Good day to you."

I heard him no more. There was a moment of silence, then the Flamenca's feet came pounding up the stairs. She burst into the room, took one look at my prone form, and went crimson. She reared back, striking me in the face.

"You maimed your tits yourself, you filthy little slut!" she spat. "You're out. I want nothing more to do with you. As soon as you rise from that bed, you're out, and don't even think of coming back again. You're not worth my time." She slapped me again for good measure, then departed, ranting her disgust. I lay quite still for a while, feeling her handprints beginning to throb and my breasts filled with gil. With freedom. Balthier had been right, had been brilliant, and I had been right to trust him. He had left me with a legacy I would never live down.

_I must try to be good enough,_ I thought as I took handfuls of gil out of my bra – it was uncomfortable stuff! I turned over, lying where Balthier had laid. Things he had said came back to me.

'_My partner, she…' _his partner was a she? Jealousy stabbed at my heart. _'You're wrong, you know. About you.' _He couldn't actually have meant that!

I drank in the scent of his pillow and began to weep. I didn't know whence the tears came; mayhap partly for joy of freedom and partly for loss of Balthier. When I fell softly into dream, it was Balthier who came for me, extending his hand, and I feel into his eyes as I had done so many times this day. A smile crossed my face, and I slept in peace for the first time in two years.

* * *

**A/N: **Again, a plea for reviews! I want to know what you have to say! Questions? I'll answer them to the best of my ability. Also, I suggest you listen to the song 'Good Enough' by Evanescence, after which the story is named. It pretty much sums up Siyana and her feelings (apart from being a really great song).


	3. Meeting the Markist

**Disclaimer: **Were I really to own Balthier, this is not what I would be doing with him.

**A/N: **I know I promised this chapter "soonish" a week ago, but I became busier with exams than I thought. Apologies to all. Thanks to Priestess of Groove and Into the Blue for being my first reviewers, and thanks to them for their kind comments. I have just reached Nalbina Fortress in my game and realized I have some serious writing to do if I want to catch up to myself - I was under the impression I had more time. Ah well. Just means more updates for you!

Without further ado, please enjoy chapter 3!

* * *

When I woke, my first thought was not of Balthier. It was of Psellia. _What would happen to her_, I wondered. But there was no way I could take her with me. I wanted no reminders of my past and she would just slow me down. I felt sorry for the girl, but she was intelligent and strong. She would get through this. I had to find my own way. 

With that thought I rose. Before then I'd no notion of how I would live out my life after I made my mark. But now I knew. I had briefly thought of training up by taking marks, then hiring out as a mercenary, seeing how much I loved fighting, but I had quickly reconsidered. As a mercenary I would have no more control over my patrons than when I was a whore. It would mean another master to answer to, another cause not my own. No. There was only one cause of true freedom, true boundlessness. And it was piracy.

I could almost imagine the comments the people closest to me would make – if there were people close to me. _– Oh, please. Is there no _honest_ work for you to do? – You just want to follow that Balthier! – You're gonna get caught! – Stow the romanticism and make something of your life! _And they would be right. No doubt their advice had been heeded by generations of romantics, else there would be many more pirates in the skies today. But they would also be wrong. I wanted a life that was mine, one that I could control on my own. Not many had the opportunity to break from the mold. I had been given one, and one would not come around again any time soon. I would take it where it was offered. It was true that if I encountered Balthier along the way, I would consider it so much the better. I never forgot that I owed him a debt for my life.

With that thought, I rose, looking at the pile of gil and jewels on the bedspread. Not needing to dress, I merely grabbed my extra chemise (the more opaque one), and in this makeshift sack, I placed Balthier's gift. I went to the door, turned and took one last look at the room I had shared with Balthier, then left it forever.

The familiar hallway, with its doors inscribed with their owners' marks, the planked floor yielding beneath my boots. Down the stairs to the entrance, and Psellia standing there greeting. She stared, wide-eyed, at me, glancing around her for the Flamenca. Satisfied she was nowhere in sight, Psellia began to speak.

"There's nothing wrong with your breasts! The Flamenca said you were in disgrace, that she'd thrown you out. What happened? What's in the sack?"

I took a deep breath. This would be difficult.

"Forgive me, Psellia. But I am leaving. Balthier… my patron – he paid for my mark. I'm free to go – I'm seeing the markist right now. I won't be coming back. I'm so sorry."

Psellia's eyes filled with tears, but they were tears of joy.

"Oh, Siyana, that's so wonderful. I had no idea that man was so generous. And how handsome he was! Oh, you're so lucky! Was he any good?" She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered the last words so that there could be no doubt of what she meant. In my mind the scent of Galbana surfaced and I remembered his kisses on my neck and nipples and smiled, thinking of his eyes on mine as I rode him.

"Yes. Good enough indeed."

"Don't worry, Siyana. You did good by me and I won't forget it. It's unrealistic for you to keep holding my hand for the rest of my life. Go, be happy. I'll be fine. Who knows? Maybe I'll find someone as generous."

I drew her into my arms, tears staring in my own eyes at her bravery and forgiveness. I did not deserve this pupil.

"So, what are you going to do? You… you fell in love with your patron, didn't you?" Psellia's eyes were wide and innocent. She had always been perceptive about such things. I shrugged.

"I honestly don't know, Psellia. I have to find him again to make sure. That's why I'm becoming a sky pirate, like him."

Psellia clapped her hands in excitement. "Oh, Siyana, how romantic! Flying the skies of Ivalice like a bird… I could never do it, though." She began to turn away.

"Why not?" I asked, curious. Psellia turned back and winked.

"Afraid of heights," she said, raising a hand in farewell. "Goodbye, Siyana. Thanks for everything!"

I too, waved. "No, Psellia. Thank-_you_. Goodbye."

She would be all right, I knew. Reassured, I stepped out of my two years' prison into the sun, free to do whatever I wanted. There were so many things to do! Go to taverns, hunt the Estersand, explore Lowtown, see the Palace…

But first, to see the markist.

It was good my sack was sufficiently innocuous that no passers-by gave a thought to what it contained – otherwise I might have been robbed by the myriad of pickpockets roaming the streets of Rabanastre. The daggers at my sides helped too. The day was hot, and I shaded my eyes against the sun pounding down on the dusty city. I took one step, then another, leaving behind House Flamenca – and my past – forever.

House Flamenca was located in the Southgate District, near the freight entrance to Lowtown. The markist contracted for my mark worked out of Lowtown, so I took the shortcut through the freight door, past Old Dalan's place (and that pot of treasure no one seemed to touch, without knowing the reason – most just assumed it belonged to Dalan and left it alone) to the markist's shop. Posted on the door were examples of finished mark designs. I was both amused and gratified to see mine displayed in prominence.

When I entered the shop, a little bell rang somewhere in its depths and the markist (a moogle with a blue bobble atop her head) appeared from the vaults, where she had been no doubt counting gil. It would appear to outsiders as though the little moogle made a good profit off the business, considering how much per mark she charged, but in fact she only scraped by on a margin, the ink was so expensive. When finished, a mark was to be borne proudly and inks were chosen based on artistic merit, not only whether they would not poison the body or leave scars and burns. It was part of the reason the price was so high, (though another was to make it difficult for those who had fallen to living such a life to leave it, in order for those higher-up to make a profit).

"Ah, Siyana! Thought I'd be seeing you soon, _kupo_! Haven't come by any unexpected windfalls, have you?"

"In fact I have, Kylie," I said, grinning, "and that's why I've come. I'd like you to finish my mark today, if you're not too busy." The latter was said merely for formality's sake – the shop was empty and Kylie would never turn away an offer of great amounts of gil. She had a business to run, after all.

Kylie jumped up and down in surprise. "_Finish, _kupo? But you're only just half-done! How can this be, _kupo_?"

"I've just served a very generous patron," I told her, setting my makeshift sack down on her table and opening it. Kylie's eyes grew wide at the sight of so much gil.

"Generous indeed, _kupo_!" she exclaimed, "But I am glad – I so much like working on your mark. Let me take this into the vault, _kupo_, and then I'll be back to work on you. Why don't you get ready?" She took my sack and disappeared into the back room. I stripped and lay down on the table. In a little while, Kylie returned. She was just at my eye level, waving a scrap of paper.

"Was this meant for me, _kupo_? Because you could have told me straight out, you know." Sitting up, I took the note from the diminutive creature. Kylie went to work preparing her instruments. In an educated, flowing hand, it read:

_To Markist: Put in more Red._

There was no signature, but I could hazard a guess as to who had written it. I folded it in my hand as Kylie returned.

"So, what was that about, _kupo_?"

"My patron apparently wants more red in my mark."

Kylie gave me a shrewd look. "So, do _you_ want more red, _kupo_? I've counted, and the payment should cover how much more the red costs, _kupo_."

I felt a smile creep over my face. Balthier really had thought of everything. I thought of encountering him again, in some far country, and offering to show him the red in my mark. I nodded to Kylie. "Why not? Galbana _are_ red, after all."

The markist saluted with her needle. "Very well, _kupo_! Red would look quite nice in yours, I think. Face down."

I lay down again and felt the needle sear my skin. The first time I had felt it, I had nearly screamed, but now I was used to the pain and merely clenched my fists and teeth, feeling Balthier's note in my palm and waiting for it to be done.

So, he wanted more red, did he? I wondered if he liked the colour red, or whether it was merely for aesthetic purposes. I let my mind wander through the pain and tried to decide whether Balthier had requested the red because he was planning on seeing my mark again, or for no reason whatsoever. Maybe in between – he wanted to imagine my mark with red added on his request. Or perhaps he had simply requested it on a lark, and whether it came through or not didn't matter. In any case, he had to have written the note while I was asleep and planned all along to slip it in with my gift. I certainly would never have thought of it without his prompting.

The rest of my marking session was given over to thoughts of airships and clouds with Balthier's face. I was at the controls of a sleek-looking craft and flew into a panic that the glossair rings weren't moving, until I realised it was Balthier who propelled the vessel with one finger, wings on his feet.

_'_We must all learn to fly on our own_,' he said, dropping me and watching me fall. I struggled to get the hover back up, then I became aware that I didn't know the first thing about piloting an airship. I fell in flames to crash on the cliffs of the Westersand. I felt a searing pain in my lower back as the fires engulfed me._

_'_You're finished_,' Balthier said, as he calmly watched my struggles to get free from the ship. '_Didn't you hear me, kupo?_'_

Hearing Balthier say 'kupo' was what finally woke me from the dream. I was relieved to discover that Balthier was not, in fact, turning Moogle and that it was Kylie shaking me.

"Come on, up you get, _kupo_. I have customers," the markist said, handing me a mirror so I could see the finished product. Rising, I took a look, surprised I had been able to fall asleep through the pain. I must have been more exhausted than I thought.

My mark was beautiful, a continuous vine of lines snaking across the bottom of my back. Feathers became lilies and lilies feathers, and petals and wings seemed one and the same. Yet slightly different, for lily blossoms had the faintest accents of red around their fluid lines, and they stood out from my tanned back looking almost real.

"So, what do you think, _kupo_?" Kylie asked. What was there to say? My markist was a master of gorgeous subtlety.

"It's beautiful, Kylie. Thank-you."

"Well, you paid for it. But you're welcome, _kupo_. What are you going to do no that you're a free woman, _kupo_?"

I took a deep breath. _A free woman_. It felt so good to think. "I'm headed for the Aerodrome, Kylie." The moogle chirruped knowingly.

"Patron was a sky-Hume, was he, _kupo_?" I stared at her. How did everyone know that?

"I think it's a good idea, _kupo_," Kylie continued, "You should find him and thank him, at least, for his generosity. And how did I know him for a sky-Hume, _kupo_? I know you wouldn't fall bobble over toes for just anyone! And you muttered in your sleep. Go to the Aerodrome, Siyana. Good luck, _kupo!_" She hopped off the table to tend to her next customer as I got dressed. The Aerodrome. A life of piracy, danger, and freedom awaited. But first, to level up.

* * *

**A/N: **Levelling up gets featured prominently because at the time of writing I had just passed through Giza, Ozmone, Golmore, Paramina, and back again about six times for each party member. It was worth it because at the end I was level 32, just in time to beat Mateus and Bergan. Still... 'twas rather dull and frustrating, but so I expect is real weapons training. I wouldn't know. I'll try to make travelling and fighting for a living as realistic as I possibly can without getting gruesome.

Also, thoughts on my new summary? I like it much better than the old one, though it still leaves much to be desired. What do you, the readers, think? What was it that attracted you to the story, and what didn't?


	4. Level Up!

**Disclaimer: **Don't believe Ondore's lies!

**A/N: **So Siyana steps out on her own! I'm afraid this is a reflection and development chapter, not much in the way of action, unfortunately. Also, some of my own emotions kind of wormed their way into this story: I identify very closely with Siyana. But I hope you enjoy it anyway!

* * *

I took my leave of Kylie and wandered the streets of Lowtown. Around every corner of the twisted, squalid streets I half expected to see my father or mother, both in business together as merchants. But I soon passed it off as foolishness. Having lost everything, my parents would hardly have stayed in Rabanastre. They would have become travelling merchants, and it was very unlikely I would ever see them again. I didn't think I wanted to.

I took the stairwell up to Rabanastre's East End, right outside the Sandsea Tavern. As I entered, a wave of noise and unfamiliar smells assaulted me. Some, however, were not so unknown. The smells of drunk, unwashed men belonged to bars now, not the bedchamber. The legions of scantily-clad girls practically screaming for attention with the curves of their bodies were desperate, not co-workers. The men in corners following my passage with their eyes were just that: since they were no longer possible patrons, I could ignore them now.

The revelation that I could now choose upon whom I bestowed my gifts was so incredible that I stopped for a moment, savouring it. I noticed a former patron at the bar, watching me, and took great delight in ignoring him completely as I moved to the notice board. I liked to think that if I had been in possession of my virginity when I met Balthier, rather than had it sold to that man by the Flamenca, that I would have bestowed it on him. But the truth was, in that alternate reality, Balthier would not have even looked at me twice.

I walked up to the notice board, waiting for the men in front of it to be done before it was my turn. One was shaking his head, looking at something I couldn't see.

"Hey, I saw that guy around Rabanastre!" he exclaimed to his friend. "Now his bounty's just been raised again. If he doesn't get caught soon, no one's purse will cover the price and they'll have to dig into the Imperial treasury for him. Bet the Consul would like that."

"Mind your tongue," his friend cautioned. "As if the Consul would deign to be bothered with such a trivial thing as this. If the matter even reaches the Judges, I'll be surprised."

"Well, someone's got to pay for it," the man replied. As they moved away I stepped forward, trying to catch a glimpse of what they had been talking about.

My heart stopped short. A canny likeness of Balthier stared out at me from a wanted poster. Somehow, even in the picture he had managed to maintain that cocky smirk that looked out on the world with such a cynical air. _Wanted: Dead or Alive,_ the caption beneath it read. _Be Warned – only Half-Bounty awarded for Mark's proven Death._ I looked at the bounty – it was more than my mark by several hundred gil. Not even a fraction of the Imperial treasury. Those speaking had clearly been country bumpkins. But Balthier had been right – even a part share would have shortened my life as a whore. The likeness was actually quite good…

Surreptitiously glancing around and satisfied no one was paying attention to me, I ripped the notice from the board and folded it up in my pocket. Feeling like a fool, I quickly accepted some quest beneath it involving a giant wolf, talked to the petitioner (who was right beside me on the floor), then went out into the Estersand to hunt the thing.

As I walked back down to the Plaza, I reflected. I now had his writing and his picture on my person. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I just accept that he wasn't interested and move on?

Because wasn't _I_ the one who convinced myself he didn't care? Hadn't he given me plenty of reasons to be attracted to him, yet still distance himself after all was said and done?

I could not fathom the feelings of this man. Certainly he was the type to flirt and romance without a second thought – it being simply his nature when it was so obvious a girl was into him, but hadn't he done just a little bit more? Asked my opinion, paid for my freedom?

If he didn't want me to follow him, why lead me on? Or was that just in my imagination as well?

I could never remember feeling this confused. Life for me had always been a simple thing. But one encounter had changed all that. One thing was certain – by following my chosen path, perennial as the grass, I would meet Balthier again, and again, and again. Until I figured it out. Until my intentions were his.

As it turned out, the giant wolf was only a level above me when I fought it. It summoned two smaller wolves to help it. As I leapt towards it with my daggers, one of its minions bit me and I cried out in pain. Luckily, the leather of my jacket stopped most of its teeth, but with my bounty I would have to invest in some more serious armour. I had forgotten - it had been a long time since my last fight, and I was both rusty and sloppy. Not a good combination. Gathering all my strength (and memories of my training), I turned on the smaller wolves, spinning into attack, blades whirling. Soon they were dead, and I was able to focus on Thextera.

It was a long fight – I was glad I was so nimble. I would strike in deep, then dance out of the way as it tried to counter. In this way, it fell at last and I gained a lot of experience.

I went back to Gatsly, who was very glad I had slain his pest, and claimed my reward. I immediately set off for Patamis'.

I bought an Escutcheon with some of the bounty and upgraded my dagger with the rest, remembering to keep a bit left over for room and board. It was getting dark, so I stopped in at an inn in the North End for the night. The proprietor was kind, and included a bath in the prices of her rooms, which were quite reasonable. I luxuriated in the hot water, reflecting on my first day of freedom. It had been productive, I thought, as I finally remembered to cast Cure on my injured arm. It had turned an unhealthy shade of green by this point, but Cure left my skin fresh and pink. I would have to remember to buy the scrolls for more magicks, too, before setting out. But level 6 was hardly a more acceptable level than 5 for a sky pirate – more levelling would be required.

So began my period of levelling. It was long and gruelling, and by the end of each day I was invariably gritty in unspeakable places and ingrained with dirt and blood. I lived on a day-to-day basis, saving what I could of my rewards, but mostly spending it on sustenance and upgraded equipment. It was a hard life, but the nights were my own. I fell into bed drained from casting Cure innumerable times, too exhausted for dreams even of Balthier. But I never forgot that every second of it I owed to him.

Thus it came about that I became a level 20 after many hard weeks of training. I had gained enough licence points to upgrade to upgrade my weapon class to the rod. I liked rods. Along with mystic armour and augment upgrades, I cast devastating area magicks on foes from a distance. My eyes were exhausted from studying so many spell scrolls to learn the incantations for said magicks, but the time spent was well worth it. My magick repertoire had greatly improved – I owned nearly half the Black licences with some Green and Time thrown in for good measure and a fair number of Whites. Arcane magick, too, I owned, but not too many because I still couldn't figure out how to use them. That Golden Amulet I had purchased from a travelling merchant in the Sands was one of the best investments I had ever made. I was also the proud master of a Quickening – Thousand Cherry Blossoms, I called it. I called petals from heaven to float down from the sky and then used my Mist Charge to turn them all into blades, which then descended like a wave of death on one foe. I'd learned it from a master in Nomad Village.

Taking stock of all my abilities, I decided I'd waited long enough. It was time to find myself a captain and start pirating.

I took a walk to the Westgate, rod at my back, new leather satchel slung over my shoulder. Entering through the colonnade of the Aerodrome was like entering another world. Suddenly I was surrounded by pilots who spoke in some strange technical jargon I couldn't understand. Having lived a comparatively sheltered life, I didn't have the faintest idea what was meant by 'glossair' or 'skystone' or 'jagd'. I would soon, however, or else my chosen career was doomed.

As I soon discovered, standing demurely in a corner attracted the attention of none save a particularly unsavoury Imperial guard. No, I would have to go looking myself.

It would have to be the right captain – not the dirty men who looked at me with nothing but lust in their eyes. Nor the fops – I had to be especially careful of those. They might look like Balthier, but there was no maturity or seriousness about them. They were in it for the ladies, or the thrills, or both, but not the long haul. Not the trust you would accord your partner.

My feet ached. It seemed I had been wandering the Aerodrome for hours, never getting anywhere, seeing all the hordes of people rushing past me, all certain of their destinations.

I ate sometime in the middle, munching crackers from my satchel, and napped on one of the provided benches. Maybe pirates no longer docked in Rabanastre, maybe I would have to make my way to Balfonheim if I wanted to take up pirating.

When I woke, the port seemed emptier. It was near to public closing time and I still hadn't found my pirate. I would have to come back tomorrow.

I was stiff and sore as I rose from the couch, and I stretched to release the tension of my awkward position, feeling the now-familiar poke of the rod against my back. This caught the attentions of one of the Imperial guards. He looked vaguely familiar, though it was hard to tell with their uniforms. He came over, clanking ominously.

"Oi! I saw you hanging around 'ere on my last shift, three hours ago! I'll have to report you for loitering." He whipped out a pad and began jotting on it. "Name?" Flamenca, I told him. The Imperial '_humphed_' at me. "Don't look much like a Flamenca," he muttered. "Age?" I told him I was fifteen. Through virtue of my life, I could succeed in passing off as a much younger girl. I hoped I would be able to get off because of my age – though with Imperials, it wasn't likely. I was terrified of being taken off to Nalbina and had a hard time keeping my thoughts focussed on my story. "Residence?" This was the clincher. I had to come up with something fast or I really could be arrested for loitering.

Without missing a beat I replied: "VI Galbana street, just outside Southgate." The exact address of House Flamenca. I could only hope this guard had never been there. I was lucky already that he was not one of my former patrons.

He bought it. "Very well." He took out a pair of manacles and made to chain me.

My mind went numb. I stumbled back, searching frantically for an excuse.

"Please, sir, I'm waiting for my brother, he said he'd be in today…"

"A likely story! Now you'll get obstruction of justice, too," he exclaimed, as he lunged for me and I dodged away.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and whirled, hand on my rod, thinking it was another Imperial, prepared to fight tooth and nail to keep my precious freedom. But I found myself looking into the face of a civilian.

"Why should it not be a likely story, sir? I'm her brother. Hey, sis," he said, steering me away from the gaping Imperial, "sorry it took me so long to get here, Ma held me up, you know…"

As soon as we were out of sight and earshot of the guard, the man's hand left my shoulder. I looked up at him, bewildered.

"Be more careful next time, you hear? You'll get yourself arrested if you're in this place too long. What flight's your brother on? The one from Nalbina? I heard it's delayed."

I shook my head. "I… I have no brother, sir."

The man did a double take. "Is that so? Well, you coulda fooled me, you're a damn good liar. What the hell you hanging around here for, then?" I shrugged, unable to find the words to explain to him my purpose here. He sighed, putting a hand on his hip, which I later learned he did when frustrated, an unconscious habit.

"You not have a home, girl? You'd think two years'd learn you to keep out of the Aerodrome."

"I was looking for work," I said, finding it amusing that the general opinion among civilians was that if one was homeless, one lost said home during the war. My decision to hang around until a sky pirate found me I now discovered to be foolish.

"What, a little smut like you? How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm twenty next Fading, sir," I told him, a faint edge creeping into my voice.

"No shit?" the man was surprised. "You barely look more'n twelve. Well, sorry girl, but I'm naught but a humble pirate and I'm not lookin' for a partner. Better luck elsewhere." He turned to leave.

Of its own accord, my hand reached out to stop him. This was one sky pirate that, for all his profanity, I could live with.

"I need a job, sir." He shook my hand off, giving me an odd look.

"Not here you don't. Goodbye." He walked away, never looking back.

Saddened by the missed opportunity, I stayed long enough to watch my rescuer disappear into Civilian Hangar F. I've always had a head for such things. I remember it to this day – Civilian Hangar F. There being nothing else left to do, I left the Aerodrome.

Before dark I'd found an inn and bought myself a room. Disheartened, I lay down on the bed, musing. It had all made so much sense in my head. How had Balthier become a pirate? Obviously it was not as easy as it sounded.

My sleep was disappointed that night. In my dreams, I _had _been arrested, and Balthier gazed at me through the bars in disappointment.

'Even caged birds need wings,' _he said sadly, holding up a pair of feathers that looked like they belonged to my mark. _

'Get me out!' _I begged him._ 'Give those back!' _There was, I now saw, a hole at the top of my cell. If I only had wings… Balthier just stood there, shaking his head._

When I woke, I knew what I was going to do without a recollection of having consciously come to a decision. I left the inn and returned to the Aerodrome. Unusually confident in my choice, I went straight to Civilian Hangar F. I knew that it was the right thing to do – whether or not I followed a mere dream was inconsequential, for where was the harm in following a dream that filled one with such resolve?

There was a ship docked there, and I stopped to look upon it in wonder, forgetting all my plans and even myself in that endless instant.

It was a sleek vessel, smooth lines accommodating a set of three rings (glossair rings, I later learned they were called), finally tapering to a point at the nose that looked perfect for plying the skies. Graceful wings sloped outwards from the main body of the craft, and opened in a V-shape, containing three smaller thrusters each. There were two larger ones on top of the ship, rising out of the body so naturally I would have sworn they had grown there. I would learn when I had a head for such things that they were far enough ahead of the main glossair ring to avoid damaging it, since it was also swept upwards from the back of the craft, rather than below it like the other two.

The image was of a vessel built for speed, but it had its own raw beauty in the way its lines curved so smoothly into one another, like the lines of my mark. But it was old, too – it had a well-worn, battle trained air about it, the intangible expression of a captain in love with his ship.

I could see it in the way the glass was polished, in the way the curves were rubbed smooth, the way the mechanics of the rings gleamed – a ship that had been caressed by its master. I began to fall in love with it, too, at that moment.

Fortunately (or perhaps fatefully), the hatch was unlocked and there was no one inside the ship. This struck me as odd – even I knew that airship captains left moogle engineers to guard their vessels whilst they were away. For some reason, this captain had not done so.

The empty ship felt strange and wonderful to my nervously heightened senses. My skin tingled as though the conduit for all the energy that had once passed through this corridor. Now I know that it was from the residue of electrically-charged magicite, but there still remains an element of something else in my first encounter with the ship that my later learning has failed to explain away. I heard the sigh of the sun-warmed metal and smelled the tang of oil and polished alloy, the smell bringing an odd sense of peace and excitement to my heart. It was like coming home, and to one who, even while living with her family, had no place to truly call home, it was a wonderful feeling.

After the briefest of hesitations, I sank down into the pilot's chair, the comfortable leather seeming to accommodate my form as I leaned back, staring out at the hangar doors. I imagined the bulkheads parting and the Dalmascan sun striking the patterns on the hull as the ship's powerful engines leaped beneath me… I could tell I had made the right choice.

I examined the myriad of dials, buttons and controls that adorned the panel in front of me, being careful not to touch any, having no idea what they did. Only then did it strike me as strange that I did not feel myself a trespasser in this world of unknown things, but rather as a new inhabitant just entering these wonders.

And it was at that moment that the captain returned.

* * *

**A/N: **A bit of a cliffhanger there, just to keep you on your toes[Be warned: as other readers will tell you, I am quite fond of cliffhangers. I'll try not to leave you hanging for too long, though shifty eyes.

I'll admit freely that it was difficult for me to describe or concieve of a ship that I could love more than the Strahl (which is truly my beloved - every time I play the game I watch the whole opening sequence just so I can see the scenes of it taking off) but this ship certainly comes close. I consider its lack of dual-wing movement a real failing, however. I wanted to make the two V-shaped wings open and close, but decided it would be too much like the Strahl and scrapped the concept. The Strahl, my beauty, can have no competitors. sigh


	5. Meeting the Captain

**Disclaimer: **You didn't kill this disclaimer. It was the Empire.

**A/N: **The shortest chapter yet, and the longest to write! Sorry it took so much time, but as this is a crucial chapter I wanted to make sure I got it right. Many thanks to my writing advisor and sa-ae, Sholosha, who is always generous with her feedback. I hope this chapter satisfies.

* * *

"Are you _quite _finished?" The voice was wry, but it had an edge to it that made me freeze. I didn't move as he swivelled his chair around to face him. Recognition dawned on his face.

"You! You're that girl from yesterday! The hell you doing, kid? You think one rescue gives you leave to make free with my ship?" He folded his arms and waited for an answer. But I didn't have one to give him. Was there any way to explain the feeling of _rightness _I had felt since I had boarded this ship, or how my dream of being caged had filled me with a resolve so great that even now, I did not question it?

I rose from the chair. "I'm sorry," I said, meaning for the fact that I could not explain my reasoning to him, not because I had entered his ship without permission.

"You sure as hell better be," he growled, glaring at me, hand reaching for the spear at his back. I did not go for my rod, not wanting this to turn to fighting. Seeing this, he relaxed and sighed.

"Look, kid, I know it's hard. The war took stuff from me, too. But you have to just accept it and move on. Clinging to me is not going to do it for you. I don't have the time or patience to babysit."

I didn't move and shook my head, wondering how he could be so wrong. Then again, I hadn't given him any evidence to the contrary.

"No, that's not it at all," I said. "You have been kind to me, but…" I searched for words to express my feelings.

"It's true, the war was terrible. I lost so much… I'm still trying to recover, to regain. But that's not all I want to do. I don't want to just take, to just sit and do nothing and complain." I had seen plenty of that on the streets of Lowtown: the deadbeats who sat and smoked weed to induce delirium-filled dreams to escape the squalor and reminisced about how much better it had been back in their day, good for nothing, just taking up space. I didn't want to become like them. "I want to prove I know how to give."

He looked at me like I was daft. "So… you want to be my partner? Is that it?" I nodded gratefully. I would discover that this man, if in nothing else, was like to Balthier in that he was perceptive and to the point. He began to laugh, but it was not a nice laugh.

"Forget it, kid," he said. "Didn't I tell you? I don't want any partner. I work alone."

"But!" I exclaimed, launching into an impassioned explanation of my inability to remain on the ground, where there were too many memories, and my need to take to the skies, where I could be truly boundless. Through it all, he folded his arms and looked cross.

"Not interested," he said angrily. "You think I give a damn? You think you're the only one who's come to me with the same old sob story?" Desperate now to convince him, I cast about me. Finding the largest, direst-looking button on the control panel, I hovered my finger above it. The captain's arms uncrossed – a vague look of panic flashed across his face.

"Fine. If you won't take me as your partner, I'll press this button." My finger moved lower, and encompassed other buttons, all of them dangerous-looking, trying to look threatening while really having no idea what I was doing. He leaped towards me, but I drew my rod to keep him at bay. "I wonder what would happen if I swung this," I mused, hefting the weighted end. "Casting Thundara, perhaps? Shall I try?" He looked at me, helpless, as I began to chant the Black magick spell and a faint purple glow infused me. I kept chanting, worried that in order to convince him I was not bluffing, I would destroy this ship I had fallen in love with.

"Wait!" he cried, and I paused in my chanting, magick looming over me like a shroud. He seemed to have trouble speaking as he struggled to meet my power-filled eyes. "If you cast Thundara here, you'll die along with the ship!" I shrugged, feeling the weight of the magick resisting the motion, growing more insistent with every passing instant.

"If I die, I die," I said, and my true emotions leant meaning to the words. "It matters naught to me." And at that moment, it truly did not, though I was at a loss to understand why. Were those in the grip of Mist usually suicidal? I continued to chant Thundara, having only a little further to go.

"_Stop!"_ the captain shouted, and I cancelled my action unthinking.

"All right, all right, fine," he said, glaring at me with hatred in his eyes. "Just don't hurt the _Shera_."

I could still feel the tingle of magick residue in my skin. I'd be wired for hours – stopping spells in such stages of advancement was not generally advised.

"The _Shera_… is that her name?" My delight in having a name to put to the ship outweighed my anxiety at the anger sparking from the captain's… _my _captain's eyes.

"It is, and a finer lady you'll not find anywhere," he said, petulance vanishing as he spoke of his ship. "The name's Blayne," he said. "I'll be your captain. Unless you want to threaten that away, too?" he asked, looking at me askance. I shook my head, mutely, hoping it showed on my face how sorry and grateful I was.

Evidently some of it did, for Blayne held out his hand reluctantly. "Welcome aboard the _Shera_," he said, though when I took his hand it seemed he was trying to crush the life out of it. As I took mine back, wincing, Blayne pushed past me into the captain's chair. I sank down into the one beside him, trying to follow his motions as his hands swept over the controls. Noting my scrutiny, he turned to me and sighed.

"You ever flown an airship before?" he asked me wearily, as if expecting the answer. Before I could speak he waved his question away. "Never mind, don't answer that, I don't think I could bear it. Look here." He indicated a readout screen in front of me. At first glance it seemed incredibly complex, with dozens of input signals. "Those readouts show the levels of skystones in the vicinity. It's busy now because we're in port, so there's nothing to worry about – aerodrome hangars are insulated from each other to neutralize the conflicting signals – but if you read any red levels out in the open, let me know." He pointed to another, more obvious gauge. "That's the power readout from the engine room. Don't worry about this one too much – if power's an issue, I likely already know. Just keep in mind the two are connected. If one's red, the other's likely red, too. Now here." His voice was brightening as he spoke of his ship, and I had to work hard to keep up with him. He showed me the basics of a series of buttons for inputting co-ordinates. They surrounded a smaller screen with the basic layout of a map of Ivalice on it. Another readout provided a compass.

"I'll deal with this for now," he said a little of his annoyance creeping in, "until you've had time to get the hang of it. Now this," his voice took on a significant tone, "this is the temperature gauge for the main glossair ring – "

"So, the big raised one at the back?" I asked, interrupting in my desire for knowledge. Blayne hesitated, then nodded curtly, apparently not trusting his voice, and not for the first time I regretted my lack of experience in the area of airships. My captain muttered something under his breath, in which I distinctly caught the words '_raised under a rock_' at which I declined to comment. After a moment, he continued with his explanation as though nothing had happened.

"The temperature gauge, which doesn't normally act up, but in turbulent weather the jetstream from the auxiliary thrusters might start to affect it." I stared at him. For a moment it seemed that, even though words continued to come out of his mouth, I could no longer understand my own language. Blayne sighed again.

"You have no idea what I just said, do you?" he asked. My blank look was answer enough, it seemed, for he shrugged.

"If it's red, it's bad," he said, showing me the highest setting on the gauge. "That's all you need to know. Watch carefully." He began to move his hands more slowly, explaining to me the positions of the activation switches for the glossair rings and the controls for the thrusters. As he activated the engines and the gauges came to life, I felt the _Shera _jump beneath me just as I had imagined, and a smile crept over my face. Seeing it, Blayne just shook his head, though not, I thought, disapprovingly. As the engines roared, Blayne spoke over them:

"You have a name, girl?" I wondered why he hadn't asked me before, whether he hadn't wanted to look as though he cared, or if he had merely forgotten.

"It's Siyana," I replied, smile still on my face. He nodded and turned back to his controls. An instant later, I was clutching the arms of my chair as the _Shera_ took to the air, a thrill of pure exhilaration sweeping through me as the Aerodrome, Rabanastre, and my past seemed to fall away. I gasped as I looked out the window and saw only sky, boundless, endless. I still remember the sky on that day – the achingly blue desert sky welcomed me to a life of freedom. I stared for a moment, entranced. It seemed like the whole world was spread out before me, like I had only to think and I would arrive anywhere I wished. And suddenly, the problems that I had thought of such all-consuming importance on the ground seemed as small and insignificant as the buildings far below. Being airborne has a way of shuffling your priorities.

Blayne glanced over at me. "Kid – Siyana – I didn't take you up for a joyride. You gonna stay, you gonna work."

I wrenched my gaze away from the blue vistas of the Dalmascan skies and back to the instruments Blayne had showed me.

A time, long or short, I couldn't tell, passed in silence while Blayne made minute adjustments to his instruments and I kept my eyes glued to the readout screen, stealing glances out the portal at the endless blue. The hum of the _Shera_'s engines settled into a rhythm resting just on the edges of hearing, enveloping my body as surely as the leather of my chair. It was not until Blayne spoke and my breath was stolen that I realised I had been breathing along with the ship.

"Siyana, you don't have to bore a hole in the screen," he said, not unkindly. "Regular checks'll be fine." I leaned back with a sigh in response to his words, taking the opportunity to look out at the sky again. It was odd – I had never really seen the sky before – I had always been in Lowtown, or dwarfed by the buildings of Rabanastre, or closeted in the whorehouse, the sky a distant and largely abstract concept. Seeing it so close and wide was a novelty. Blayne, busied with the controls, glanced back at me.

"You were breathing with her, weren't you? The _Shera_." It was not a question. I looked at him, and in his eyes I could see that I had been forgiven, at least a little bit, because of my attentions to his ship. I nodded, feeling myself blush slightly. He crossed his arms and studied me frankly.

"You weren't really going to blow her up, were you?" I shook my head. He chuckled depreciatingly, but apparently found no words to say. Then he leaned in close to me, and I stared at him, unsure of his intentions, but he merely pressed a series of buttons on the co-ordinate panel near me, smirked at my uncertainty in a gesture that reminded me forcibly of Balthier, and withdrew. I felt the _Shera _shift beneath me and dared to ask:

"Where are we going?" He increased power to the thrusters.

"Balfonheim."

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, the ship is named after Cid's in FFVII. I thought such a pretty name deserved some representation! I haven't played VII, only watched AC over and over again, so Blayne is modelled very loosely on Cid's personality as I percieved it in the something like 4 lines he had in the movie. Basically I wanted someone who was the complete antithesis of Balthier so that Siyana wouldn't confuse the two in her admittedly convaluted feelings. All of the lessons Blayne will be giving Siyana on the flying of airships are completely my creation, born of my extensive reading of the few extant sources of information on FFXII airships and simple common sense, along with a few plot devices. If you spot any mistakes I've made or have suggestions for improvements don't hesitate to let me know! The story won't be too much longer without the main characters, but I ask readers to bear with me for just a little bit, because the next chapter or two will of necessity focus on Blayne and Siyana's character development. Thanks for reading, and please review, even if you don't think you have anything to say. It will certainly help me put out chapters faster and it's nice to know my work is appreciated.


	6. Shopping

**A/N: **An extra-long chapter this time, since it's been so long. I'm sorry for the wait, but the monster RL took me in its jaws, chewed me up and spat me out. Luckily I got a lot written in my notebook during that time, so it's just a matter of typing it. Thanks to all who reviewed. Note the new summary: give me your suggestions!

P.S. - Since I'm just playing the game for the first time I've never actually been to Balfonheim yet, so if anything is inaccurate, let me know and I'll change it. So without further ado: please enjoy chapter 6!

* * *

A change in the rhythm of the _Shera_ was what it finally took to wake me – I doubt anything else could have done it. I got up and splashed my face with some water in the tiny necessary room cordoned off from the sleeping area, gratified to see that my eyes in the mirror were more alert and the dark circles under them had lightened some. I had just finished taking a brush to my unruly hair when Blayne knocked on the door.

"You up yet, Siyana? Get in here, we're approaching Balfonheim." I grinned and obeyed, taking my seat just as Blayne began the descent. He yawned widely and pointedly.

"Hope you slept well, 'cause you're taking the next watch," he said. I responded in the affirmative, in too good a mood to care overly about what I said. I understood he was just teasing me and let the matter drop. He shook his head indulgently and launched into his lesson with no more mention of the previous night.

"Make sure you slow down when you land," he said as he pulled back on the shifts. "It seems like a fundamental thing, but when you're flying you don't realise how fast you're actually going. Most aerodromes have regulations concerning speed of approach, and enforce them strictly with specially modified paling fields. Balfonheim doesn't."

I looked at him questioningly and he shrugged. "Most docking here are doing so under duress. Balfonheim's a safe port, a sanctuary for those on the wrong side of the law. If you're running from bounty hunters, you don't want to have a paling slowing you down by force, like you would 'round other aerodromes. But we're not being chased, so we'll take care of the _Shera_. Coming in too fast, you risk disrupting the magicite reaction and gumming the works. At worst, you'll blow up your ship. So pay attention to your speed and slow down." I nodded, startled by his dire warnings. "'Sides," Blayne continued, "if you're over a certain speed, the landing systems won't kick in – they're a combination of hover pads and support legs." The _Shera_ slowed further, and I caught sight of a wide blue harbour – for Balfonheim also served as a port for sea-going vessels and not just airships. A question occurred to me, and I hesitated slightly before asking it.

"If Balfonheim is so famous as a free port, why have Archadia or Rozzaria not taken it yet?"

"Politics," Blayne said with disgust. "Balfonheim isn't just a port for pirates – rogue Archadian upstarts and Rozzarian spies use it, too. They also have bounty hunters in their employ, and those characters can't land anywhere else with any convenience. It's in the best interests of both counties to keep it running. Balfonheim does very well out of being completely neutral – I once saw an Archadian intelligence agent and his Rozzarian target drinking together in a tavern. They became best of friends, and ended up starting up their own fashion district in downtown Balfonheim which brings in over a million gil a year for the harbour. Go figure."

The skystone readings were off the charts, but Blayne told me it was to be expected, seeing how near we were to the aerodrome. I began to get excited. Apart from my brief sojourn in Archadia, I'd never been outside of Rabanastre. This was why I had become a sky pirate – to see new things, and different places. But I was soon to discover that this was not the only thing a sky pirate did.

Blayne got on the radio with the aerodrome control and permission was granted to us to land in an empty hangar. The _Shera_ had slowed considerably now, her rhythm slower, more laboured.

"'Tis just a formality," Blayne told me, pressing more buttons in tandem with the _Shera_. "It shows them that we're legit, not on the run. Technically, we could just land in any hangar our scanners show as empty. But this way, we'll get moogle technicians assigned to our ship, which is good since we don't have one of our own."

I glanced at him, surprised. Aware or not, he had just called the _Shera_ 'our' ship. Grinning, I allowed myself to relax just a little.

Blayne leaned over and calmly pressed the button I had threatened him with the day before.

"What are you doing?" I exclaimed, sure that the ship was to blow up any second.

"Landing gear," Blayne muttered, seemingly embarrassed. I let out an uncertain giggle, unsure whether I, too, was embarrassed, or just amused that I had threatened him with landing gear.

As the _Shera_ glided to a halt, I was conflicted. On the one hand, I was still filled with hopeless mirth at the fact that I had been so foolish, and on the other I felt an enormous pang of loss when the _Shera _faded to lifelessness around me – only the externally-powered sensors testified the fact that she had instants before been a living, breathing being… or at least, had seemed so to me.

Blayne noted my dejection. "Don't worry, we won't be in port very long. Just stopping in to catch up on some news, gather supplies, and see that you're properly outfitted.

"But you were just in Rabanastre…?" I asked, before the latter part of Blayne's statement sank in and my voice trailed away in astonishment. Blayne seemed not to notice, however, and busied himself in popping the hatch.

"Yeah. But there's things in Balfonheim that you can't get anywhere else in Ivalice – my favourite brand of aftershave is one of them." He looked at me askance, misinterpreting my disbelieving face. "What? Don't believe me? It's illegal in the other Kingdoms to even possess the stuff, how else am I supposed to get it? I trained for weeks in order to get enough loot to sell to the bazaar…"

I cut him off. "What do you mean, 'properly outfitted'?" I was shocked that he would even consider getting me anything – seeing as how it was only yesterday that I had threatened to blow up his ship. Blayne shrugged.

"Unless you're carrying around decent armour in that satchel of yours I'd say you need some. The life of a sky pirate is not one that can be kept at bay merely by a leather jacket – however pretty it may be." He inspected the rod at my back. "Bloody hell! You're still using a Serpent's Rod? What level are you anyway?" he asked dubiously. Incapable of speech, I showed him my licence book and he scanned it.

"Well, at least you're not a complete failure," he said. "Level 20 isn't bad – I was expecting something much lower than that. Not too many points, though – I guess you only took hunts?" I nodded and he sighed. "But a Quickening? I'm impressed. 'Thousand Cherry Blossoms', is it? Sounds like a pansy of a thing – you'll have to show me on the field sometime. It says here you have extensive training in daggers and minimal Mystic Armour preferences. You also seem to have a proficiency for magick – your skills are a little above the average for your level." He returned book to me. "There seems to be a long period of inactivity and then frantic action just recently. Did you do all that training for your future partner?" I nodded again and he chuckled. "I'm honoured. Well, Siyana, I have my work cut out for me, though it's not as bad as it could have been." The hatch opened and sunlight poured in, the distant sights and sounds of the aerodrome entering the cabin.

"Shall we?" Blayne asked, extending his hand. I accepted his air in getting down the steps, still stunned by what I had heard. Vaguely behind me I could hear Blayne muttering: "I'll be sure to lock her this time – honestly don't know what came over me. Don't want any more enamoured visitors to make partners."

_That _shook me out of it. "I am not enamoured," I snapped, turning to glare at Blayne, who raised his hands in surrender.

"A joke, Siyana. Just a joke." He came up to walk beside me and we left the hangar. As we exited, we passed a pair of moogles heading for the _Shera_. Blayne tossed one of them the access card and the two saluted us with smiles and a cheerful "_kupo!_" before rushing to their work. They would give the _Shera_ a thorough going-over even though it had just been tuned up. Moogles in different cities specialized in different engineering disciplines, so it was likely we'd find improvements in the ship's systems when we took off. Airships were moogle inventions after all.

We entered the streets of Balfonheim. The sights and the smells were so different from those of Rabanastre that I felt entirely out of my element, and endeavoured to stay as close to Blayne as possible without giving the impression that we were 'together'. Nevertheless, I was bemused to find that several women looked at me with envy as we passed, though Blayne seemed to be quite happy with the incredulous looks men were giving him. I wondered if the position of Blayne's partner had been a lucrative spot and I'd just jumped the queue. I mused on possible reasons why Blayne had been so adamant against taking a partner, but I guess that no-one here believed that a nobody (from Rabanastre, of all places) could have secured the job.

I felt one of Blayne's arms sneak possessively around my waist and I nearly halted in surprise.

"Just keep walking," Blayne murmured. "That's if you don't mind?" He did not even glance at me.

I resigned myself to the fact. "You may continue if it boosts your ego," I said, and Blayne grinned and pulled me closer. In truth I was grateful for the protection. It showed the women that Blayne would not be as receptive to sexual favours as they might have previously believed (though how they thought they could build a partnership using the arts of the bedchamber I don't know), and it showed the men that an attempt to incapacitate me (physically or otherwise) would leave them with him to deal with, too. If such a farce could accomplish all that, I could put up with my captain's arm around me. Certainly I had endured much worse, from less considerate men.

The looks of incredulity and envy increased. They'd been denied. I grinned, the smell of the sea making me giddy.

I caught a glimpse of the harbour and I stopped and stared, amazed. Coming from desert-bound Dalmasca, the most water I had seen was the marshy puddles in Giza during the Rains. But when presented with the ocean, a water as boundless and blue as the sky, I couldn't help but think I was missing out on one of Nature's wonders. There was an inherent nobility in the way its sparkling waves gently lapped against the shore, and the whole thing was so immense I had trouble believing it was real. The glimpse I had had of the sea from the cockpit of the _Shera_ had not prepared me for this. then, it had been dim and far away, but now, seeing it so bright and close, I was almost overwhelmed.

"Never seen the ocean before, Siyana?" Blayne asked, gently guiding me to keep walking. "You're gonna have to see more of the world. Get your head out of the sand. Sometimes I think you Dalmascans really are provincials." He shook his head before I could retort in defence of Dalmasca to show he hadn't meant it.

"Oh, by the way," I said, deliberately off-hand, still determined to get him back, "that aftershave you mentioned – it wouldn't happen to be that Firewyrm Carrac stuff, would it?"

Blayne grinned. "Yes indeed. Guaranteed to make you irresistible to women, and ferocious once you got 'em. You know it?"

"Too well," I said loftily. "And I'm sorry to say it doesn't affect me anymore. Dreadfully old-fashioned… always the surest way to turn me off." I turned back to him, nearly loosing my concentration at the crestfallen look on his face. "That's, of course, assuming you meant it for me."

He looked away. "No, I meant it for someone else, really…" He brightened, however, as he steered me over to one of the nearby merchants.

"Beruny, you old sea-dog! How're you keeping?" he called out to the man, who looked up from his wares at Blayne's voice. A grin split his face, and as we drew near, the two clasped arms like brothers. Blayne was smiling, too – I'd never seen him so happy. The next few moments were spent in a flurry of pleasantries before Blayne turned to the girl selling armour.

"Emma, darling, how are you? You look lovely as ever – hope this barnacle here isn't working you too hard?"

She grinned. "You know as well as I that if there's work t'be done 'round here, _I_'ll be the one layin' in the spurs."

Blayne laughed outright at that. "Always knew which of the pair of you was wearin' the pants. She's got'cha in a corner, Beruny," he said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. Beruny did not look entirely displeased, though he made a fair job of it, turning away from the teasing and noticing me.

"Well, Blayne, who's this? Your latest arm-candy?" My look of uncertainty quickly turned to a glare. I didn't know who I was angrier at, Beruny or Blayne, so I settled for withering them both. There was a time when I would have been paid a great deal to be seen with single men, but that was not me any more. I responded in as cool a voice as I could muster.

"I'm his partner."

Beruny was only fazed for a moment before turning back to Blayne. "What's this, Blayne?" he asked, grin giving a teasing lilt to his voice. "Have the tender charms of woman finally warmed your icy heart?" Blayne crossed his arms and looked away, scowling. "No," he spat, and he looked so dejected that I took pity on him.

"I believe rather it was my rod that did it. I would not take no for an answer." I shot a wicked grin at Beruny. "He seemed not to think Thundara and _Shera_ would mix well."

Beruny whistled. "Threaten to deprive a man of his pride and joy, his one true love? Ruthless, you are." He smiled at me and offered his hand. "I rather like you. Name's Beruny, weapons merchant extraordinaire, at your service." When I gave him my hand, he brought it lightly to his lips and kissed it.

"I'm Siyana," I said. "Pleasure to meet you, Beruny."

"The pleasure is mine, I'm sure," Beruny said. "This is my partner, Emma."

"It's nice to meet the girl who's finally tamed the wild Blayne." She clasped my hand warmly as behind me my captain gave another _'humph'_ at the comment.

"So," Beruny said, rubbing his hands together eagerly, "what can I do for the newest, unlikeliest pair of sky pirates in Ivalice?" I lowered my eyes, uncertain once more, having forgotten the reason why we were here. Yet I somehow doubted that we were the unlikeliest partners – newest we might be, but sky pirates as a race were by nature eclectic.

Blayne moved up to stand beside me, petulance forgotten as he talked business.

"Siyana here needs equipment, badly. Do you have anything for a level 20?"

"20? Congratulations, my girl," Beruny said approvingly, frowning in thought. "You're still using a Serpent's Rod? That won't do at all – are you partial to rods?" I nodded. "I like casting magick."

"Too much," Blayne muttered, but he put his hand on my shoulder. "She's got potential, Beruny," he said, "that Thundara was surprisingly strong. I'm thinking an Empyrean Rod would do nicely." I stared, amazed, but Beruny shrugged it off.

"Naw, if she's got the potential you say, she needs something with an elemental affiliation. The Cloud Staff, maybe?"

"Are you blind, Beruny? A little wisp of a thing like her needs a pole and no mistake. You have a Zephyr Pole in there, don't'cha?" Emma elbowed her superior. I was quite unused to being fussed over and wasn't entirely sure I enjoyed the sensation, making it hard to concentrate.

"So how about it, Siyana?" Blayne asked me, precluding further argument. "Do you want the Empyrean Rod, the Cloud Staff, or the Zephyr Pole?"

Bemused, I tried out all three, but in the end, it ended up being the Zephyr Pole, and Emma's suggestion, that felt the most right and powerful in my hand. It had a wind affiliation, like me, free and blowing anywhere it liked.

"I'll take this one," I said, hefting it in my hand. Emma crowed triumphantly and Blayne looked so dejected I wondered why he cared so much.

"That'll be 11200 gil," Beruny said. I blanched, having never paid such a sum in my life (with the exception of my mark). I didn't even know if I had that much. I reached for my satchel, but Blayne's hand stopped me. It deposited the gil in Beruny's hand and withdrew. Shocked, I opened my mouth, determined to say something, but Blayne shrugged.

"You're my partner," he said, as though that explained everything.

"Damn straight she is," Beruny told him, "and don't you forget it."

"You take care of that girl, you here?" Emma joined in.

"But… I don't need… I can take care of myself!" I managed. All three of them stared at me as though I'd uttered a dirty word. Neither of the men seemed to be forthcoming with information, so it was left to Emma to explain.

"Siyana, you and Blayne are partners. There is no _I_. There is only _we_."

"You live together, you fly together, you take care of each other, watch each others' backs. That's how it works. Bein' partners isn't just somethin' for the cockpit," Beruny elaborated. "It's for always. Everything you do from now on is to benefit your partner. If it isn't good for both of you, it isn't good at all. What affects one of you affects you both."

I nodded, beginning to understand Blayne's actions the previous night. I was discovering that there was more to this sky pirating thing that I had thought, and I wanted to learn all I could. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if Balthier had a partner, and who it was.

Over the course of the day, I was equipped not only with the Zephyr Pole, but with updated mystic armour and magicks, too. I kept trying to buy something for Blayne, but he was adamant that he had everything he needed. I did, however, manage to buy him that ridiculous aftershave and lunch when we'd finished, though even that was a struggle.

"What else is there that we need to do today?" I asked. Throughout the day, Blayne had been dropping hints that shopping was not going to be our only activity in Balfonheim.

"Well, we still have to get you inducted into the Guild, or the Aerodromes won't recognise your status. All you have to do is sign the ledger beside my name – do you have an alias?"

I blinked at him. "What?"

"A fake name. If Siyana is your real name, you might want to change it. One heist too many and you're perfectly traceable. I imagine there'd be many in Rabanastre about to point you out." I thought of my numerous patrons and nodded.

"If you sign the ledger under another name, that's the one the authorities will use when they're after you. They check the ledger first. You'll be harder to find. So, how about it?"

Coming up with a name for yourself on the spot was very difficult. I thought about my mother's name, but decided against it because, if my mother was still alive, they'd arrest her instead of me. Then a name came to me that was so perfect, I had to keep from laughing out loud.

"What is it?" Blayne asked. "Do you have one?"

I nodded. "Sephira," I told him, and he frowned. "Sounds somehow familiar, but I can't figure how." He shrugged. "Oh well, it works. Let's go do that now."

The procedure was simple, and we were done in moments. As we left the Guild Headquarters, I assumed we were done in Balfonheim, and said as much to Blayne.

"Are you crazy?" Blayne asked me incredulously. "We've only just begun!"

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"Have you forgotten what the most important part about being a sky pirate is?" When I continued to stare at him, he shook his head. "Treasure!" he exclaimed. "Sky pirates are treasure hunters! How else do you think we keep up airships?"

"I hadn't thought about it," I said. "Don't you just steal parts from other pirates?"

Blayne grimaced. "I keep forgetting you don't know anything," he said. "Pirates don't steal from other pirates unless we have no other choice. It's considered the height of dishonour to be unable to keep up your own vessel." I nodded, storing away that piece of information as I said: "So, what's this about treasure?"

* * *

**A/N: **What is the significance of Siyana? You'll find out soon, I promise. And don't worry, the main characters won't be out of the story for very much longer. Maybe even the next chapter, or at most the one after that. Please R&R!


	7. Heist: the First

**Disclaimer:** I'm just here to see how this all plays out. Any self-respecting author would do the same.

**A/N: **Two chapters today, for three reasons. First of all, I'm feeling generous. Secondly, this is the shortest chapter (length-wise) thus far in the story, though ironically it covers the longest period of time. Thirdly, it's been ages since I updated, and I take full responsibility. I've been writing up a storm, but just haven't seemed to be able to get around to typing it. Well, without further ado, please enjoy chapters 7 and 8, and don't forget to review!

* * *

Thus began a period of frantic information gathering. We frequented Balfonheim's numerous taverns, buying drinks and socializing, all in the hopes of squeezing information about possible treasure locations. It wasn't very long before Blayne realised that my inbred charms (relics from my past) that were only natural to me after so long were extremely successful in retrieving information, so he often sent me to question me, while females could not refuse him anything. I rather enjoyed myself in manipulation, though I drew the line at actually sleeping with anyone, as Blayne once had the gall to imply.

Blayne had given me the day off and he had finished drinking for the night. I wondered if the treasure would be enough to justify spending a fortune on ale, but no matter. If this was what Blayne (who was a fairly successful sky pirate, as things went) said we should do, I did it. It was late, and I retreated to my bunk, Blayne saying he wanted to stay up and look over our records of the information we'd gleaned.

But when I tried to get to sleep, I found that I could not. I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours until I realised the problem. The other nights I had slept, I had either been on watch beforehand, or I had stayed at the tavern gambling with a target until much later. Either way, every time I had climbed into my bed previously, my eyes had been shut already. I had not had the chance to feel discomfort in the fact that there was no one in my bed.

For all that it had been several months since my night with Balthier; I had grown accustomed to falling into bed completely exhausted. Now that I was rested and had had a chance to relax, my bed felt noticeably empty, and I found that I could not sleep without the warmth of another being beside me. Giving up the attempt at last, I rose and went back to the cockpit. Blayne was there, reading our journals by candlelight, using a quill to cross off doubled information, or to draw lines between connecting statements. He looked up as I entered.

"What's the matter, Siyana? Sleeping problem?"

"Must not be tired enough." I shrugged.

"How tired must you be to sleep?" Blayne asked, sounding slightly surprised.

"I don't know. I've never tried."

"Would you like some… companionship?" Blayne asked, smirking at me. "That Ysan is a tough nut to crack…"

I'd had it. Ever since we met he'd been forcing his off-colour innuendos on me, and now this? Turning so my back was towards him, I lifted my shirt so he could see my mark.

"See this?" I asked. "This is the mark of House Flamenca. I chose Galbana lilies, because they had a legacy behind them… the one who had used the sign before me was very gifted. They said I had her gift, too, the gift of the Galbana. Do you know what the scent of the Galbana lily does?"

Blayne answered slowly, trying to gather his wits.

"If smelled too often, the scent of the Galbana can often cause spikes in the pleasure receptors of the brain and induce hallucinations."

"That's why I wear the Galbana. That's what I can do. And that's why your little comments won't have any affect on me – I've seen them all before, used them before, even played them out before. It's no use. Just quit it."

Blayne stared at me, startled.

"Are you really that good?" he asked. I sighed, covering my mark again. "Obviously enough people thought so. But that's not the point. The point is that I am no longer a girl of gil. I am a sky pirate, free to make my own choices. And that does not include Ysan."

He raised his hands in surrender. "All right, all right, I won't mention it again. But that's the reason you can't sleep, right? Because of what you were?" I didn't deny it, merely dropped into the seat next to him. Blayne looked contemplative, tapping the end of the quill on the table.

"So my partner's a night girl, and I can't even take advantage."

I glared at him, still sour from lack of sleep. "Damn straight. You even try, and I'll reconsider putting that Thundara on hold."

"Understood," he said quickly, but he smiled at me. "I can respect that. Truth to tell, I think it's admirable. I can relate to not wanting to fall back into old habits." I nodded gratefully, deciding instead to help Blayne with his connections. When I went to bed the second time, I had no trouble, and every night after that became easier, though I am still unable to truly sleep well unless I have someone by my side.

Eventually our hard work paid off in a lead to a secret treasure belonging to the line of priests in Rozzaria. Though I originally balked at stealing religious artefacts, Blayne told me of the corruption of the Rozzarian priesthood and I became gradually convinced that it would be a good deed to relieve them of their burden. We set off immediately, and I began my first heist.

During the trip (made longer because of the _jagd_ we had to avoid), Blayne continued his lessons on flying an airship. I got to see the engine room in action and learned how to perform maintenance checks while in flight.

The heist turned out to be a success in the end, though it was complicated by the involvement of the Rozzarian War Pavilion and the fact that priests trapped their temples, necessitating several emergency curing sessions that lasted several days. We got to the treasure at last, but it turned out that the cache itself was a clue leading to another like it in Archadia, suggesting a link between the lines of the priesthoods of the two countries stretching back thousands of years. Not about to pass up something that valuable, Blayne got a plan in his head to get us into Archadia and steal our treasure's mate.

In the air once more, Blayne (who had become much warmer towards me since I had saved him from being impaled in a pit of spikes in the final stages of our heist) told me that I would probably now have a bounty on my head (or _Sephira_'s head). I finally gathered enough courage to ask him why he had been so set against taking a partner.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair as his eyes wandered the realms of memory.

"I had a partner when I first started pirating," he said. "He was my captain, and he was one of the best. He taught me everything I know. He retired soon after I finished my training, and left me the ship. I've never forgiven him for abandoning me – he never told me he was retiring until he handed over the signed deeds. I wasn't ready for such a responsibility, but I never saw him again.

"Now I was captain. I took a partner after a short time. She was smart, funny… She had such a cheerful smile it could light up a room. She was an orphan of Nabudis – I was a Nabudis veteran." I looked sharply at him, shocked by the revelation that he had been one of the few to survive that terrible day, but he seemed not to notice.

"I took it as my responsibility to protect her, and for a while I was successful. She died in the Zertinian Caverns – heedless of the warnings of danger, I led her right to an Esper's den. I barely escaped with my life. As far as I know, it's still there, lying in wait for others as foolish as me. Phoenix Down doesn't help those killed by Espers – I'm such a fool. I left her there to become a Shambling Corpse, one of the legions to be summoned in Adrammelech's need. After that, I swore, never again. Until you came along and convinced me very firmly otherwise." He smiled faintly.

I sat in silence at the horror of his tale, but inevitably he wanted to hear about my past, so I told him how I had been abandoned to Flamenca by my parents and all that had happened there, leaving out the gruesome details and (for whatever reason) any mention of Balthier. Blayne seemed more interested in my parting from Psellia, and wouldn't speak to me for a week when he learned I had left her.

We were captured in Archadia, partly due to my carelessness and partly because of Blayne's sullenness, though he did save my life when he leaped in front of me to stab an imperial mastiff that was in the process of mauling my unprotected back.

We were taken to Nalbina, and the _Shera_ was confiscated. Blayne despaired, until I recalled Balthier's detailed and regaling stories of his escape from the fortress and rose greatly in Blayne's esteem when I led him (on the tail of some imperial guards) into Barheim Passage. From there, we fought our way back to the outside world, and Blayne got to see my Quickening at last when I used it to blow away the rocks blocking the exit. My Quickening was not, in fact, very powerful, and the manoeuvre worked only marginally before the tunnel once again collapsed behind us. But that didn't matter. We set our sights to Rabanastre and retrieving the _Shera_.

Coming back to my home after so long filled me with a sense both of excitement and sadness. My life had changed so much since I had last walked the city streets, and I had a feeling it was about to change again.

And it was at this time that Balthier came back into my world.

* * *

**A/N: **You see? I could've been really mean and left you with a short chapter ending in a cliffie, after such a long wait, but I didn't, because that's just the type of kind-hearted author I am. Feel free to show your appreciation by leaving reviews! 


	8. For the Reunion

**Disclaimer: **Square Enix, don't tell me you haven't noticed?

**A/N: **Here it is at last: the entrance of a main character. Sorry I kept you waiting so long for his reappearance, but I think it works better this way. Not too much to say about this one - it's pretty self-explanatory. Enjoy!

* * *

It was at the Sandsea tavern – the very place where my journey had begun. I stepped in during the time off Blayne allowed me after finishing the work he had set me for today (which mostly consisted of using my "wiles" (as Blayne called them) to gather information), and took a look at the notice board. It was busier than usual in the tavern today – a great crowd gathered around the board, discussing the relative merits of various hunts. I slipped in among them largely unnoticed, scanning the board out of habit. There was a new poster for Balthier (seeing this, the old one I had taken throbbed in my pocket where I had kept it through all my adventures, taking it out to look at when Blayne couldn't see), and beneath it…

It was a poster for me. Or rather, for _Sephira_. Blayne's poster was nearby. I looked for the offered bounty interestedly, and grinned when I saw the amount. I had a long way to go before it was as much as Balthier's, but it was nevertheless considerable. I studied the artist's rendition of me – it was fairly accurate. I reached out a curious finger to trace the shape of my face.

"Yes, indeed, quite a good likeness," came a voice from beside me. I froze, somehow unable to turn, as the familiar tones washed over me. "Perhaps I should take that bounty _now_." A dagger was pressed against my ribs. I inhaled sharply, not because of the sharp edge of steel, but because of the intoxicating presence of the scent I had been longing for through so many weeks of its absence and the warmth of his nearness. I didn't move. I _couldn't_ move. Far from questioning his motives, I could barely breathe past the pounding of my heart. How could I not have seen him there? All I could think was that this was the man who had won me my freedom. And then I knew exactly what I had to do. I remained still and silent, finding the courage to look up and meet his eyes. Those dark, intense eyes were locked on mine, and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

Faced with my calm stare, however, he blinked and inclined his head in apparent curiosity.

"Shouldn't someone in your position be… doing something to stop me?" he asked, his voice so near I could scream with pleasure, my body soaking him up like a parched sponge. It was all I could do to keep from thrusting into the dagger – that would be messy. I shook my head, eyes never leaving his face. I had wanted to see his eyes for so long I didn't think I could have looked away, even if I had wanted to. Was I trembling? I wondered.

"No, Balthier. When you paid for my mark you bought my life. If you decide you want to take it away, that is fine with me."

He stepped back, sheathing his dagger. No one standing near had noticed anything. "You belong to no-one but yourself, Siyana. I make no claim on you – I bought you freedom, not more slavery."

I shrugged. "As you say." In my current mood he could have said anything and I would have agreed.

Seeming to sense this, he held out his hand and smiled winningly. "I'm feeling in the mood for a drink. Shall we?"

And thus I found myself sitting across from Balthier in the Sandsea tavern, sipping the drink he'd put on the table in front of me without knowing precisely what it was, not sure I understood what was going on, and unable to believe my good fortune. Balthier drank in silence for a while, completely inscrutable again as he studied me.

"Before we start, I must ask: Why Sephira?"

I smiled, thinking of the trips to the theatre that were my only memories of my mother, and shrugged. "It seemed appropriate." He considered that a moment.

"You've changed, Siyana," he said at last, setting his drink down with a sigh, just as he'd done the night we met.

The statement intrigued me. I wanted very much to hear how Balthier thought I'd changed. "How so?"

"You're… calmer, more mature." I couldn't tell whether he approved of this or not. "And yet, nothing has changed. You're still filled with this notion that Humes can belong to others. They can't. I would have thought you'd learn that, Siyana. Especially in light of your career choice." His voice was definitely disapproving now. "I must admit, when I bought you your freedom, I certainly wasn't expecting you to follow in my footsteps with my own money. If you truly did think I owned your life, wouldn't you take more care of it?" Was that… concern I heard in his voice? It couldn't have been, and I was so sure that I changed the subject. At first I balked at contradicting him, but I reminded myself that we were equals, now, not patron and servant.

"But wouldn't you say that partners belong to each other?" I asked. I would certainly classify myself as belonging to Blayne, but perhaps I was wrong. Balthier seemed to think so, for he shook his head.

"Certainly not. Partners are _responsible_ for each other, of a surety, but ownership is a different thing entirely." He frowned, taking another sip. I expected him to ask me about the meaning of Sephira, but either he'd already figured it out or he didn't care as much as I had expected him to. He changed the subject deliberately, just as I had.

"So, you went after the fabled treasure of the Rozzarian priesthood? Can't say I've ever been interested in it myself, though they say it's a hellhound's breakfast to get. How did you manage it – and on your first heist, too?"

So, incredulously, I found myself telling Balthier the story of my trip to Rozzaria. For whatever reason, I did not mention the name of Blayne, referring to him instead as 'my partner.' I could tell by the way Balthier's eyes sharpened that he noticed, but he said nothing. Throughout the tale, I found myself wondering if this chance meeting might turn to something more. I hadn't been expecting to meet Balthier this soon after becoming a sky pirate, and this seemed to suggest to me that our encounter was not mere chance. Yet I could not afford to take anything with this man for granted. I could feel my body responding to him even as I talked, remembering the night we had spent together, and I found I longed for him to be on top of me, to feel him inside me with an intense _want _that filled every fibre of my being with thoughts of him. To feel his lips on mine again…

If he expected something more to come of this meeting, would I be able to refuse him? No matter what he said, I still owed him a debt that I could never repay. I had tried since then to change my ways and not open my legs for every man who happened to have something I wanted, tried not to use my kisses as collateral. But if my body's response was any indication, I would have a hard time resisting his advances. And really – did I have any right to do so? No matter how hard I had tried, I had never quite been able to shake the patron/servant worldview engrained in my psyche.

Between the storytelling and my musings, I had not been paying attention to my hands. I discovered when I'd finished that Balthier had continually been refilling my drink. I felt a little off-kilter, and everything seemed slightly blurred. I realized that Balthier had just played the oldest trick in the book, and I had fallen for it.

I had trouble focussing on Balthier's eyes as I frowned.

"You know, I would have gone with you without this much trouble," I said as he helped me to stand. His touch on mine burned like fire.

"Most likely. But it's the way things are done. The leading man must maintain a sense of propriety."

If I feared another game of keep-away, that was not what Balthier wanted. As soon as the door closed behind me I was pressed against it, his body on mine, lips smothering me, tasting me, caressing me. As my tongue probed his mouth, my hands explored his body, relearning the touch of every curve, every plane.

"You know, Siyana," Balthier said as he came up for breath, "You've been the subject of my thoughts more often than befits the leading man's neutrality."

I grinned recklessly, his words setting a fire within my soul. "Did those thoughts happen to feature yours truly in a compromising position on your bed?"

His kisses went for my neck with a wolfish snarl. "Wouldn't you like to know."

There was no ceremony to our undressing – I fumbled with Balthier's shirt in such a way that would have made my tutor cringe if he had seen it – but I didn't care, and clearly Balthier was not looking for finesse, as he was equally careless during his removal of my skirt. A nagging voice in the back of my mind told me that he couldn't possibly want me this much – that he only wanted to get it over with, but then his caresses and my drunkenness and the havoc they were wreaking on my body overwhelmed it and I melted, utterly and completely, into his arms.

His fingers indented the flesh of my hips as he curved them around to cup my buttocks. He lifted me and my legs went around his hips instinctively, feeling his hardness press against my slick softness. I balanced myself with my hands on his shoulders, my gaze locked with his. I still could not drink in enough of those eyes, now that I was no longer afraid to meet them. He slid his hands down further, his fingers finding the pearl nestled in my curls, as if once he had found it he never needed to look for it again. I lost my breath as he pressed it. Then his fingers were replaced with the head of his shaft. Slowly, so slowly, tormenting me, he moved me down until I covered him fully, my curls entangled with his.

I breathed air deep into my lungs, my tingling breasts lifting until they brushed his chest. Everything that I was fused with him, throbbing, expanding and contracting. I crossed my ankles behind his back and concentrated on holding him with all of my being.

He was kissing me. Gently, at first, one hand supporting my bottom, the other curving around the back of my head, holding me still as he launched a sensuous assault. His tongue flicked over my bottom lip then dipped inside my mouth. My hunger growing, I wrapped my arms around his neck, entangling my fingers in his cropped fair hair.

He slid his hands up to my waist, taking his time. I leaned back so that only my fingers were laced behind his neck, encouraging an even deeper meeting. I swivelled my hips, rubbing against him.

He took a sharp breath, his erection twitching inside me as I did it again. I watched the effect I was having on him. Moisture dotted his forehead, dampening the single lock of errant hair that had fallen over his brow, drawing attention to the desire darkening his eyes. I released my grip on his neck.

Balthier instinctively shifted his balance to protect me, but I knew what I was doing. Clasping my hands tightly over his at my hips, I leaned back, farther and farther, until I could touch the floor. This was something I hadn't done the other night – the combination of wine and love had made me reckless. I knew what view the move would provide him, and from what I could see of his face in the muted light it had affected him: his own member deep inside me, my own flesh swollen and glistening in the light, the landscape of my body as it folded away from him.

I released his hands and stretched my arms over my head, bracing myself against the floor and tightening my legs behind him. Then I moved.

And his seed was filling me at the same time I let out a passion-filled moan. _That's twice_, some small rational part of my brain marked, and I considered it for only an instant before filing it away. It wouldn't do to have such thoughts now. I put my hands on his again and he grasped them, lifting me to hold me tight to his chest.

"You do know how risky this is," Balthier murmured, and I was once again forced to marvel at the calm, level-headed way this man made love. It was why I adored him so.

"Yes," I whispered, watching my words rustle his hair, "but you were willing to do it anyway, weren't you?" I released my legs and slid down the length of him, feeling his erection twitch back to life. Then I kissed him. He deepened the kiss, sweeping me up into his arms. A change in texture beneath me indicated I'd been laid on the bed. Then he followed, covering my body with his, his answer simple enough. The realization nearly made me cry out with the power in it.

"But there's something you should know," I continued, in between kisses. He paused briefly and looked at me.

"One of the reasons the mark is so costly is because the ink is inundated with magicks against the conceiving of children," I said, watching his face as I said it. Comprehension and relief dawned in his eyes, and he traced his fingers over my collarbone, over the damp skin between my breasts, and over my stomach, which would never swell with his child unless he lit a candle to Holy Queen Emmeroloth, praying for her to release the seal on my womb.

"Well then, that's just perfect," he said, and for once I could tell he meant what he said, though I was astonished that he hadn't known before. Flamenca established it in most of her contracts. I guess she hadn't bothered with mine. But more important matters demanded my attention.

He kissed me again and again, until I arched my back, pushing my breasts in the air and he claimed them hungrily. I cried out, not caring we were in a room in an inn, intoxicated not only by drink but by his scent. I hadn't paid attention to how much he had drunk, but obviously it was less than I had because he was cunning in his arousement of me, tongue flicking, fingers caressing, lips exploring every part of me until I cried out for release. Our roles were reversed – he was serving me, now – but I found I no longer cared if he knew that I wanted him; for it would be denying my most basic sense of self. Over the months we'd been apart, all the times I'd thought of him had moulded themselves into something that made me _Siyana_, and it was that something that was being satisfied. If intellect and conversation had driven our previous encounter, this time logic could not be further from my mind. Balthier took control in a much more noticeable manner, grasping me and guiding me into the positions he wanted, and I was pliant at his touch. I cast my hair in a cool curtain against his nether parts and drew him down on top of me, pressing him down on myself as though I thought I could absorb him into me as I became so full of desire that I could no longer hold back and begged him earnestly to make an end of it. He chuckled low and seductively, gathering me in his arms to whisper in my ear.

"You haven't changed, Siyana." And he took me with what could almost be called tenderness. I hadn't realized that I was crying until Balthier kissed the tears from my face.

"Now, now, none of that. I don't need that right now," he said, but the drink and the raw emotion that I now felt threatened to explode and prevented me from controlling myself. Thankfully, however, I was sufficiently in possession of my senses to keep from blurting out those three little words; 'I missed you', or, even worse: 'I love you'. For both were there on the tip of my tongue, the truth waiting to be spoken. But as our heartbeats slowed and mingled, and lust drained away, I was able to perceive a profound melancholy.

"You'll be gone in the morning, won't you, Balthier?"

I felt his shoulders shift beneath me. "Most likely. If it's what you expect of me, how I could I do anything else?"

It saddened me, but somehow I know that it was not the end. I murmured, on the edge of sleep:

"Wilt thou be gone when the lark does beat the vaulty heaven so high above our heads? Some say the lark makes sweet division; this doth not so, for she divideth us."

There was the hesitation of a moment, and then came the reply that I was waiting for, sent in sweet vibrations from Balthier's chest straight into my ear and escorting me smiling into dream with his natural dramatic flair:

"Look, love, what envious streaks do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die."

* * *

**A/N: **Observant readers may already have discovered the significance of Sephira. Those who haven't will either have to ask those who have, or else wait until I make it more explicit (which won't be for a while - I'm having too much fun playing with the concept). Kudos to anyone who can tell me the play whose lines Siyana and Balthier quoted! Oh, and by the way, leading studies show that the amount of reviews left a story directly impact said story, decreasing the time between updates by nearly 50! So get those reviews in! 


	9. Be Our Guest

**Disclaimer: **I'm not in the habit of speaking to the dead. Especially if they happen to be disclaimers.

**A/N: **Well, I'm pretty sure most of you have seen this coming, so here it is! (What?). I agonized over it for a very long time, so I hope to get a lot of feedback on it. I hope you enjoy it! I took a teensy bit of (hopefully believable) creative license here - if you notice it, I apologize.

Also, I'm going to try to get into a routine of posting updates on Sundays (that gives you the whole week to read it), seeing as how in writing and in typing I'm far ahead of myself, but of course unforseeable circumstances may come up and I ask your patience in advance. So without further ado, please enjoy chapter 9!

* * *

When I woke the next morning, Balthier was indeed gone, as I had expected, leaving only rumpled bed sheets to testify to his presence. Were it not for his scent that still lingered in the room and on my clothes, I would have thought our meeting nothing more than a dream. I had imagined he would leave a note or some sort of pithy comeback, but the room was mute. With a sigh, I dressed and went downstairs, discovering when I did so that Balthier had paid not just for the drinks, but the room as well. However mysterious to me his feelings were, he certainly seemed to enjoy spending money on me.

Blayne, when I returned to him, was understandably wroth, and more so when I avoided the question of where I had been the previous night. Much as I trusted Blayne, there were some things I would never tell him, and this was one of them. The information I brought appeased him some, and we went off to steal back the _Shera._

She was heavily guarded, and Blayne was shot during the heist. Thus it fell to me, bleeding from a head wound, to pilot the _Shera_ for the first time as we made our escape. Blayne looked better for the potion he had gulped down as we ran; I had not had time to cast Cure and he was white-faced with pain and anxiety as he sat in my accustomed spot and dictated directions to me, all the while Imperial squads on our tail.

Needless to say, it did not go well. We avoided the ham-handed Archadian pilots with ease, but ran into turbulence over Ozmone Plain. I was unable to regain control of the ship as she shuddered beneath me and was forced to make an emergency landing. On top of everything else, the escape had damaged our engine room and part of our main glossair ring.

I cast Cura as Blayne examined the damage to the _Shera_. It was extensive – now he was even more furious with me – and required the procurement of parts.

"Damn!" Blayne spat. It was the first word he'd said to me since our ill-favoured escape and I suspected it could be the last.

"Forgive me," I murmured, fighting the inbred urge to kneel, not sure of what else to say. Inexplicably, the image of Balthier came to my mind, and I shuddered to think of what he would say of me in such a position. Blayne swore again. I, too, was pained to see my beloved _Shera_ crippled like this.

"It's not you, Siyana," Blayne said, hand on his hip. "I know you did all you could. It's just this whole gods-curst situation. The parts we're missing are small, but vital. That last cannon blast took out the external compression chambers for the glossair reaction. No doubt some Imperial marksman's getting a back-slapping from his mates right now – they'll come looking for us in a day or two, so we'll need to get 'em fast. And, considering the haste with which we left, they'll have put a ban on our purchasing of parts in machine shops from here to Nalbina by the time we get back to Rabanastre." He sighed. "I guess that means we're gonna have to steal 'em. There was a ship I saw back in the City that might have compatible parts. We'll start there."

Thus did we return to Rabanastre, on foot and beaten. When we reached the Aerodrome, Blayne directed me to the ship he'd mentioned and outlined the plan.

"I want you to go in and create a distraction if there're still people inside. I'll extract you when I've got what we need," he said. I figured Blayne was still angry with me, for my part was practically suicide, but on the other hand I had no idea what we were looking for. Blayne crept around the outside of the ship while I slipped inside. The scent in the hangar and the nature of the ship itself seemed vaguely familiar, but when I entered it struck me with all the force of a rampaging chocobo. I had to fight to keep from staggering.

So this is what it had all come down to. I could have laughed at the irony of it. I stood, torn with indecision, unsure of whether to return to Blayne and advise him to abort while he still could, or to stay and carry out the farce to the end.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I snuck slowly into the cockpit, not seeing until it was too late the pair of ears sticking up from one of the chairs that twitched as they sounded me. I froze as the viera who owned the ears rose regally from her seat and fixed me with a withering glare.

"Who are you?" she asked, in a curious lilting accent. There was a glint of red in those eyes, and I tried desperately to think up a convincing lie even as I stammered. It was one of the few times I had seen a viera up close, and her revealing armour and the ease with which she wore those spindly stiletto heels found me, a girl of gil, wishing I could pull it off with as much grace and elegance. This viera really was eye-catchingly beautiful – she had not dyed her locks from their trademark ivory white as was convention among rogues of her kind, and she folded her arms over her abundant bosom when I was not forthcoming with an answer to her question. I hoped desperately that Blayne would finish soon and rescue me before this viera did what she was clearly contemplating doing with those claws of hers.

"Well?" she prompted, but we were interrupted by the arrival of a noisy group of people. They were arguing when they came in, though they fell silent in confusion when they saw me.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" a woman among them asked me imperiously. She had an air of command about her that gave me the impression that she was accustomed to being obeyed, and her tone was like ice.

"I, too, would like that question answered," the viera said from behind me. "Is she an acquaintance of yours?" All four responded in the negative. Things were starting to look very bad for me.

A blond boy among them turned and called to someone out of my sight.

"Hey, Balthier! Do you know this person?"

My heart physically stopped at that name. This was not good.

"Honestly, Vaan, what are you blabbering about this time? I'm not in the mood for your antics…" Balthier pushed his way into the cockpit and caught sight of me.

For the briefest of moments he stepped backward, at a loss, then checked himself, pushing past me to seat himself at the controls. The ship's engines immediately sprang to life. And, gods help me; I was aroused even by his most glancing touch.

"Hold it, Balthier!" The commanding woman ordered. "Who is this person? Shouldn't we get rid of her?"

Balthier hardly paused, and I was once again given cause to marvel at the incredibly neutral tone he kept even in the most turbulent of moments. "I don't have the time. If Vaan hadn't been so free with his damned technicks at the bazaar I wouldn't have squads of Imperials on my tail." As though to hone his point, through the main window armed guards could be seen running into the hangar. The boy called Vaan looked sheepish. I thought suddenly of Blayne, and hoped he had the wit to escape. I wasn't sure I did. "It was you, Princess, who insisted we come back to Rabanastre once we'd finished in Nalbina and I'm still recovering from the clamour everyone made when Nono informed me she'd finished repairs on the ship, even though I told you it would take no more than five minutes to fly to the Highwaste. Well, this is what you wanted. If we don't take off _now_ we never will, so short of killing her I'm out of ideas."

He turned back to look at us as the ship gave an almighty lurch and his eyes found mine, questioning and angry. I'd entered his private space.

"None of that now, _Strahl_ my girl," he muttered, turning back with an under-breath litany: "Doesn't Nono _listen_? If I've told her once, I've told her a thousand times, the mathigen reactors need to be synchronized with the ether modulators _before_ the propeller sub-systems kick in."

Beside him, his viera partner adjusted the reaction fluctuation graph. "As you have not told her once, Balthier, your statement is irrelevant." Balthier ignored her.

"Strap yourselves in," he commanded. "We're launching."

Seeing nothing else to do, I took a seat apart from the others, hardly able to believe what was happening. I could hear Imperials pounding on the hatch and the hangar doors were beginning to close. Everything was changing so abruptly I was having a hard time keeping up. Then we were in the air, just making it through the space remaining between the bulkheads of the Aerodrome, and I was left wondering how I was ever going to explain myself to Blayne.

For a while, no one spoke. The escape had been too narrow, their worries too pressing. Then Balthier stood, our trajectory stabilized, and the viera took the controls without having to be told. Passing through the ranks of seats, Balthier leaned over me, and his eyes blazed as he spoke.

"What the hell are you doing here, Siyana?" Ripples ran through the ship as the others realized that Balthier did indeed know me. He was angrier than I'd ever seen him, and had a right to be. Suddenly the understanding in our relationship was shaken. Now there were strings attached. Now I was invading his life, a life that he had thought separate from me and what I represented. And I, knowing this, seeing it in his eyes, was terrified.

"It was a mistake, I swear!" I exclaimed. "I had no idea this was your ship…"

"And do you regularly make free with other people's ships?" Balthier cut me off, reminding me forcibly of my first meeting with Blayne.

"No! Blayne and I stole the _Shera _back from the Imperials and we went down over Ozmone and Blayne sent me in to be a diversion…"

"_Blayne_?" Balthier said incredulously, distracted for the moment by this revelation. "_Blayne_ is your partner? That's impossible."

Fearful, I blurted out the whole story – how I had threatened Blayne with the landing gear and Thundara, and how Blayne had agreed in order to save his ship.

And Balthier threw back his head and laughed. Waves of shock rippled through the cabin as all turned in astonishment to Balthier. I, too, was startled by the change in his mood and I knew it showed on my face. He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes and sighed.

"Ah, Siyana, you always know the way to a man's heart." He turned to the commanding woman, whom I now remembered he had called _Princess_. I wondered if my suspicions could possibly be true. "Ashe, what do you suggest we do?" Balthier asked. I blinked in surprise. _Princess Ashe_? Could this truly be Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca, the hope of her people proclaimed dead two years past? She looked much like in the stories I had heard, I now noticed.

She shook herself out of the stupor induced by Balthier's laugh. "I know not, Balthier. This is a most unusual circumstance."

A large man on the princess' right spoke up. He had a long, angry looking scar across the left side of his face and a deep, solemn voice that moved me deeply. If this was the Princess Ashelia, then by description he must be Basch von Ronsenburg, branded traitor and executed. Even I, in my sheltered life, had heard the tales, though it seemed, at least, that the ones about his death were false. Yet for me it had never been a question of believing or not believing – the situation at hand had always seemed to me to be more pressing than the matters which had caused it. But here he was, travelling with Balthier. And for me, that was all I needed to discount the tales of his betrayal and count him as true as myself. "You seem to know somewhat of her, Balthier," the man said. "Is she trustworthy?"

I balked at this. "I am a loyal citizen of Rabanastre! If nothing else I am loyal to Balthier." The man I thought was Basch looked surprised. "Is this true?" Balthier winced and I hastened to cover up.

"Of course it is! I owe Balthier my life. He saved me when I was in dire straits and I shall forever be in his debt."

"That doesn't sound like Balthier," I heard a girl up front whisper to Vaan. All I could see of her were her perky blond pigtails. Balthier apparently heard, however, for he shrugged.

"Believe what you wish. But I'm sorry to say that in this circumstance the leading man played the protagonist." Then, I had no idea what he was talking about. Understanding came later, though to this day I still don't know what he means by it. "Now it's up to Ashe to decide what to do with her."

Ashe (as I later learned to call her – it took a long time for me to stop calling her 'Princess') studied me intently before shrugging her shoulders.

"I do not have enough knowledge to decide such a thing. Loyal to you she might be, but if we let her go she might tell others what she has seen. I leave it up to your discretion."

"We approach the Highwaste," the viera co-pilot said, apparently unperturbed by the events going on around her.

Balthier turned with an acknowledging nod. "Thank-you, Fran."

_The Mosphoran Highwaste? _His words worried me. The Highwaste was filled with very powerful monsters – if they abandoned me there I did not think I would be able to fight my way back to Rabanastre.

"Well, Siyana, you've put me in a very difficult situation," Balthier muttered, more to himself than to me. "Are you still a level 5?" he asked. I was surprised he remembered.

"Of course not. Right now I'm a level 22." I had gained some levels during my adventures.

Balthier swore. "That's not a high enough level for the Highwaste. I don't have time to baby-sit."

_Just what Blayne said,_ I thought.

"I, too, do not wish to take another into our confidence," Ashe said, and paused. I wondered if Balthier could tell as well as I what she was thinking: _'especially one loyal to Balthier.'_ I began to realize for the first time what a secret I had stumbled upon. If it was important enough to involve both Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca and Basch von Ronsenburg, perhaps it was not my business after all – even if it did include Balthier. "But I believe there is another choice," Ashe continued. She looked at Balthier. "We could send her back to Nalbina. It's not too far from here – if she flees all the way she might make it."

I blanched at that. "Nalbina is crawling with Imperials," I blurted out. "If I go there, I'll be arrested for sure!"

Balthier crossed his arms. "That is your fault entirely and not of my concern."

The pigtailed girl beside Vaan spoke aloud for the first time.

"Oh, please don't do that – it's terrible! Vaan told me stories about the Fortress – I don't want anyone else to go there!"

Balthier looked sharply at Vaan, who had the grace to look abashed. Then, to my surprise, he, too, spoke in my defence.

"Yeah, Balthier, that's really mean. No one deserves that." I neglected to mention that I'd already been sent there once and escaped for the simple reason that the escape route had seen the end of its days after being used twice. I didn't wish to wager on my chances in that place alone, so I remained silent.

"It seems we have no other choice," Ashe agreed. "We must take her with us." The man beside her shifted uneasily in his chair. She turned and put a hand on his arm. "I like it no more than you do. But I must accept such help as I find, and I see no other options as yet."

Balthier raised his hands in surrender. The motion brought back a wave of nostalgia and I half-expected him to say: 'Your _pleasure? Forgive me, Siyana, but I was under the impression that it was _my _pleasure that mattered here…'_ But all he said was: "Very well. You stay. But you'd best not get in the way, or I might change my mind about leaving you to the Imperials." He took his pilot's seat which Fran had just vacated. "Prepare for landing."

I looked around the cockpit. The cabin of the _Shera_ was more utilitarian, whereas in this one, the _Strahl_, Balthier had named her (a Landish name – I wondered why. Behind the name of every ship, there was a story); there was ornamentation everywhere, though it still seemed able to function easily. Only Archadian airships had this much decoration, and I mulled over the seeming dichotomy contained in the ship from Archadia bearing the name from Landis. On the outside the merging patterns and colours made it quite beautiful – a ship for the elite of Archades, who had disposed of the need for solid earth like the rest of us mortals. But as I looked at the group around me, I knew that I was only a guest in their world – to be tolerated, but not welcomed or accepted. It would be lonely, but I would endure it. I was with Balthier – Blayne would understand. It was a chance to pay off my debt.

There was a brief awkwardness when we disembarked as to what my role would be – by virtue of long association, the six of them had fallen into a kind of rhythm, and I marred the pattern. Three would fight, with the other three carrying the packs and acting as support in case things got troublesome. Eventually it was decided that I would just carry extra packs and not fight at all. I bit my tongue on the protest that I would never gain levels like that and accepted the water skins and satchels of food they handed me. I was introduced formally to the rest of the party and learned that Vaan's young friend, whom I had been unable to put a name to, was Penelo.

The one called Penelo apparently took pity on me and smiled as she gave me a Golden Amulet. I thanked her sincerely, having lost my own, and because its powers would aid me to gain more licence points even if I wasn't fighting.

Once we were all organized, Balthier, never missing a chance to show off, turned his ship invisible. I wished the _Shera_ had such an ability – it would have made things much easier. Then together, we set out.

* * *

**A/N: **Ah, this was a difficult chapter to write. I'm still not completely satisfied with it, but I decided to post it rather than put you on hold for the next five years in order to perfect it (because that's how long it would take, I think). Even though my two beta readers have okayed it, I suppose the artist is always the harshest critic of her own work. Questions, comments, concerns? Please R&R. Thanks to my friend and B-reader Lorza-chan for the inspiration for this scene and her support while writing it.


	10. Ahead on Our Way

**Disclaimer: **Words of much value, these.

**A/N:** An ultra-short chapter this week (not entirely unplanned). That's what you get for not reviewing. I was pretty sad that one of the most important chapters in the whole story only got one review. Did you readers of mine not like it? It's okay! You can tell me! Did I lose a lot of you? I'm sorry, but this is the direction I need to take my story. It'll be more interesting - promise.

Now, without further ado: the first experience of travelling with the party! Please enjoy!

* * *

The Mosphoran Highwaste was rocky, and covered in plants that grew to lethal-looking points. I once touched one out of curiosity, surprised to find that it was alive and pliant beneath my fingers rather than cold and hard as steel, until Ashe scolded me for foolishness.

At first, everything was fine, despite the fact that the entire group seemed intent on ignoring me. I cast magicks and cured people when they got too overwhelmed, but I was too burdened to fight. The first time we encountered a trap (glowing red on the ground with a beam of light in the centre, imbued with magickal words in a script long-forgotten, thanks to Penelo's use of Libra), I was treated to the unique sensation of having my feet lifted from the ground as Fran cast Float on the whole party, though no-one had thought to warn me beforehand, and it was a rather startling experience. I over-balanced, and if Penelo hadn't been there to grab my arm I would have fallen. No-one else even looked my way, but Penelo gave me a brief smile before moving on. Just as I got used to the feeling of my feet pushing against a cushiony, elastic substance that pushed back with exactly the right pressure to keep me airborne, the spell faded.

When we entered the trail that the map termed 'Sky-flung Stone', however, I had my first major shock of the journey (though not to be the last by a great margin). I had fallen behind in curiosity, examining the mysterious wind shrines that dotted the rest area, and thus was far from the others when I entered the next area. All I saw was a length of grey-blue scales slither out of the ground, seemingly from nowhere.

I screamed.

The strong, pungent aroma of Smelling Salts woke me, and I found myself staring up into Balthier's face. The look he gave me, however, was one of disgust.

"What got into you, Siyana? It was just a Python," he said, kicking the corpse at his feet, which had a bullet wound through its skull. Seeing it, I blanched and scrambled away, determined not to faint again. Balthier grimaced.

"Don't tell me: you're afraid of snakes." I nodded, feeling my pulse race as I endeavoured to put as much distance between myself and the creature as possible. Balthier sighed, moving ahead without a backwards glance. "Better get used to them – there are dozens around here."

I froze, looking around me frantically as though I expected them to descend upon me from the skies. _More?_ I scurried up to walk beside Balthier, willing to endure his disdain in exchange for protection against the creatures.

My magicks were of much use on the bridge guarded by vultures, and we made good time across it, though Ashe seemed uncomfortable until we crossed to the other side. She drifted nearer to Basch, intent on her feet, and not fighting when we came too close to the edge. I wondered if she was afraid of heights, and this suspicion was confirmed when she balked at crossing the high wooden bridge strung over the gorge to the Salikawood. Everyone else was up ahead, so they didn't see how Basch discretely took Ashe's hand and led her down the exact middle of the bridge. I felt secure in the knowledge that I was not the only one with fears.

The Salikawood was, to one born and raised in a desert city, the most beautiful place in the world. Tiny particles of pollen drifted through the air, accompanying the gentle scents of the indigenous flowers on the wind, and a rich viridescence streamed down from the trees. Unfortunately for Ashe, it was also all suspended from the canopy. I admired her courage – where I had screamed and fainted, she was able to go on, staying close to the middle of the boardwalk, and to Basch. I continued to walk near to Balthier, though I suspected there would not be any more snakes this high up.

Balthier spared a glance in my direction.

"There are no snakes in the Salikawood. You're safe for now." Relieved, I allowed myself to relax a little.

"Why so terrified of snakes?" he asked, curiosity creeping into his voice. "Surely, in the wide world, there are more fearful things?"

I shrugged. "When I was very small, I was playing in the yard outside our house. I wandered off, as children are wont to do: I don't know how far. I fell beneath the crust of sand, right into a nest of them, all coiling and writhing, hissing and spitting around me. I received bites, lots of them. I couldn't find the way out. Then they were twisting around me, like I was one of their own, suffocating me, their eyes glinting in the darkness…" I shuddered at the memory, wrapping my arms around myself involuntarily, to protect myself from imaginary snakes. "I'm just lucky they weren't poisonous."

Balthier plucked a flower from one of the strange creeping vines around us and presented it to me with a flourish. "For thee," he said, and the touch of his hands as he put it in my hair was enough to erase the dark memories surrounding me.

"How did you escape?" he asked, surprising me once again in his desire for information.

"My father and his well-placed Fira."

"The same father who sold you to Flamenca?"

So he remembered that, too? "Yes. But if he hadn't, I wouldn't have met you." Balthier turned away to study the crystal pool at the end of the boardwalk.

"You wouldn't have had to," he said. I considered this for a moment. It was true enough for him, but not for me.

"You know I would have followed you, if you had decided to leave me." There it was, in plain terms. Everything that I was, whether for my own selfish reasons or for my debt, was on the table.

He turned back to me. "I know you would have tried," he said, and went off to chain some Pumpkin Heads, leaving me standing by the lily pond with a flower in my hair and thoughts that were as raging and conflicted as the water was cool and serene.

* * *

**A/N: **More reviews this time, please! That's all I've got to say.


	11. Lessons

**Disclaimer: **Consider your disclaimers, old man. You're outmatched.

**A/N:** Many thanks to the number of people who responded to my call for reviews! They really made a difference! But some of you had some good points, and I will therefore not be including my usual plea for reviews at the end of this chapter. If you haven't figured it out by now, I give up. Many of the reviews I recieved made me think long and hard about what I've written and am about to write, and I think they've improved my story, so thank-you so very much!

Moving on to the story, you'll start to see more action now that the main characters have entered. I hope you like it!

* * *

Camp that night was a much more excited affair than usual. The next day we would enter the Phon Coast, and the children (as we (usually affectionately) termed Vaan and Penelo) would soon see the ocean for the first time. Though I had seen it in Balfonheim, I was nevertheless anxious to see it again. I sat apart, as was my wont, smelling the salt tang in the air that indicated our proximity to the sea, while the others sat around the fire, Vaan speculating excitedly about what it would look like. Smiling absently at his antics, I drifted back in my mind to the conversation Balthier and I had had earlier that day. I still had the flower in my hair, though I could almost feel it wilting in the salinated breeze, away from the Salikawood. I was so absorbed in my musings that I didn't notice that the children had fallen silent until Penelo tapped my shoulder.

"Um… Siyana? Am I disturbing anything?" she asked, tugging one of her pigtails awkwardly.

"Not at all," I hastened to reassure her, indicating a place beside me and smiling. "What's on your mind?" The fact that any of the six would talk to me was odd, though Penelo had been nothing but kind to me.

She sat, but still she hesitated. "Er…I don't mean to pry, but… I was curious about how you came to meet Balthier." I blinked. This was unexpected. I supposed there was no real reason why I shouldn't tell Penelo, except that Balthier might not want it generally known. I glanced at him, and he gave me the slightest of shrugs, which no one but me and Fran (who saw everything) noticed. I took Penelo's hand, trying to convey the seriousness of what I was about to tell her, so that she would not fall into the same black pit.

"Very well, Penelo. I'll tell you. Two years ago, a little after the war broke out, my parents (who were merchants) lost everything. They decided to go and seek their fortune elsewhither. They needed money to do that, so they sold me, their only asset, to an establishment in Southgate called House Flamenca."

Vaan let out a snigger, which he quickly turned into a hacking cough. I looked at him in surprise.

"You know the place?" Balthier asked him. Vaan nodded, still grinning. "People used to ask me to run errands there, sometimes, but I couldn't afford to stay."

"Isn't that place full of night girls?" Ashe asked. Basch stared at her, scandalized.

"What?" Penelo looked confused.

"Night girl is just a fancy way of saying it. I'll say it plain. I was a girl of gil, a prostitute… call it what you will." Comprehension dawned in Penelo's eyes.

"Your father allowed you to be sold to a whorehouse?" Basch asked, surprisingly forward for him. I nodded.

"He didn't allow it – he did it himself." Basch shook his head, apparently disgusted. "You seem young for that kind of work… I presume you were not still in possession of…" He seemed to realise what he was saying and broke off, turning a delicate shade of pink around his hairline that I could just see in the firelight. I smiled inwardly that he should be so interested.

"Yes," I said, and my listeners turned in horror. Only Fran, who was on watch, did not react, though I could tell by the twitch of her ears that she was listening. "The very night my father sold me to Flamenca, she auctioned my maidenhead off to an Imperial."

Penelo's hand gripped mine tightly as she gasped. Ashe and Basch looked away. Vaan actually stood up and stalked around the campfire for a few moments before sitting back down and gruffly saying to no-one in particular that he'd never liked Flamenca. Balthier just watched me, slowly and carefully, filling my thighs with heat. I shifted slightly away from Penelo, sure she would notice.

"That's what my life was like, until Balthier came to me, and paid for my freedom."

While everyone else turned to stare in surprise at Balthier, who shrugged, Penelo frowned.

"I don't understand," she said. "Why would he have to do that? Couldn't you just leave?" It surprised me that she was _this _innocent – she had spent her life with Vaan after all.

"When a girl is taken into House Flamenca, Penelo," I explained, "she gets a pattern tattooed to her back. It's called a mark, and it's done with really expensive ink that won't ever fade or scar, and it's inundated with magicks against the conception of children. All that you make goes towards completing it, and when you do, you're free. Trouble is; Flamenca takes almost all of what you make, so it's hard to save up. Balthier not only gave me enough gil to finish, he tricked Flamenca so she didn't find it."

Everyone looked to Balthier as if expecting an explanation. He sighed, putting on his 'mock wounded' expression. "Why do you all look so surprised? For what possible reason do you always expect the worst of me?" I thought I heard Fran chuckle, though I could not be sure. Ashe shook her head.

"You never do anything unless it be for your own profit." "Why should this be any different?" Balthier asked her. "I certainly got my money's worth, if that's what you mean." He shot a sly smirk at me, and the memory was enough to firm my nipples. I hoped no one would notice in the dark. Vaan looked at me eagerly.

"So, you're that good, huh?" he asked.

"Vaan!" Penelo exclaimed. Balthier smacked him. "I think you need to go cool your raging hormones," he told him, his voice unexpectedly sharp. "In the ocean, perhaps? We should be by to pick you up in a day or two." Vaan clasped the back of his head with both hands, scuffing a toe in the dirt. "Sorry, Siyana," he said.

"Can I see it?" Penelo asked abruptly, and I knew she had been holding in the question for some time. "Your mark, I mean." She looked mortified at even asking, but I didn't mind. "Of course." I lifted up my shirt and pulled down my skirt a little to expose the base of my spine. Penelo let out a small 'oh' of astonishment. Soon the children were crowded around me, touching it gently.

"I like the wings," Penelo murmured, tracing one with her finger. "The red just makes them come alive."

Balthier gave me another long, steady look, his mouth quirked in a smile. I smiled back, secure in the knowledge that this was one secret we shared.

"It's Galbana lilies!" Vaan exclaimed. "Just like your jacket." I hid my mark again.

"Yes, Vaan. I note your vest has a similar pattern. It was your brother's, right?" It was impossible to travel with Vaan for long and not know the story, even if you were an outcast. I hesitated. "Did Reks ever…"

"No," Vaan spat, glaring at me. "He was a soldier, not some pansy man-whore!"

"Vaan!" Penelo scolded. She was forever attempting to correct Vaan's language. I don't know why she bothered.

"It was my mother," Vaan said, softened a little. "Before she met my dad. She used Galbanas too. She told her stories to Reks, because I was too young. She said she would regret the lost time, but she would never be ashamed of what she was. She made this vest for Reks, to carry on the tradition. That's when Reks started liking Galbanas. He told the other guys he just liked the highs they gave him, but it was really because he missed Ma as much as I did."

Ashe stood, her face back in its mask.

"It's late, and we still have a long journey ahead of us. To be, everyone." Her voice was cold, and brooked no argument.

Usually everyone else slept in tents in pairs and I was tolerated in Vaan and Penelo's tent as none of the adults wanted me. But this time it was Ashe's turn for the second watch, Vaan and Penelo were so loud about seeing the ocean tomorrow that I knew I wouldn't sleep, and I didn't dare share Balthier's tent (because then I _really_ wouldn't sleep), so I made up my mind to approach Basch. To my surprise, he agreed, telling Ashe to wake him when her watch was done. I tried to take it, but he refused.

Tenting with Basch was strange, and I could tell by the way that he lay down stiffly that he expected me to attempt to seduce him or somewhat. After several minutes of awkward silence, I sighed, the sound loud in the darkness.

"You can relax, Basch. I'm not like that anymore. The last thing I need is to be tired tomorrow."

Basch audibly reclined, and the tension in the tent eased.

"I'm sorry," I said, not sure of what else to say.

"Don't be. You did what you had to do."

"Then why do I get the feeling Ashe hates me?"

"Basch hesitated. "She doesn't hate you," he said quietly. "She hates what you represent, a reminder of her weakness, of her failure to protect her people. She feels responsible for what happened to you, and to Vaan and Penelo."

"But I don't blame her!" I exclaimed. "Nor do they! It's the way things had to be."

"I know," Basch said. "But I can't convince her of that. All I can do is bear it with her."

"But it's not your burden, either," I said.

Basch was silent for the rest of the night.

The next morning we caught sight of the ocean proper, and my heart was lifted by the quiet waves lapping against white strands. Four Remoras patrolling overhead, however, spoiled the picture.

"It seems we made the right choice," Balthier said, watching them disappear towards Archades. "If we'd taken the easy way and come by airship, one of those patrols would no doubt have been quick to roll out the red carpet." The mention of airships made me think suddenly of Blayne. I wondered where he was, and what he was doing, or if I'd ever see him again.

"We've crossed the border," Balthier was saying, "but that's no excuse to get sloppy. It's still a long road to the capital."

I raised a hand against the sun's glare and gazed in the direction he indicated. It did seem to be incredibly far away, though as we pre-occupied ourselves with getting to the Hunter's Camp it seemed less so, not out of an actual diminishing of distance, but because I was walking down a long white beach under the azure sky, warm trade winds caressing my face, with Balthier. And I realized that this was where I was meant to be.

Fighting had been keeping us occupied along the way, but as we reached the Hunter's Camp, which was free of enemies, the children could no longer hold back and ran for the water. Fran and Basch, obviously no less eager but more in control, followed more sedately. I was about to join them, when Balthier's words stopped me in my tracks.

"Why the capital?" he asked Ashe. I delayed my appearance around the rock wall, wanting to listen, not wanting to be seen listening. I wondered why Balthier only called Archades 'the capital'. None but Archadians did so.

Ashe hesitated before replying. "The nethecite. I must destroy it." I wasn't quite sure what they were talking about. I had a vague idea, compiled by stories I'd heard along the way, but since I'd realized but recently that our actual destination was Archades, I didn't know what we were actually going for. The fact that Balthier didn't either, though, startled me. He was not one to merely follow blindly.

"Are you sure? You don't just want it for yourself?" Balthier asked, and I realized his question was rhetorical, a stepping-stone to a different kind of information. "Use its power to restore Dalmasca? Something like that?" He kept his voice deceptively light, but I knew it disguised coldness beneath. I wondered if Ashe, by virtue of long association, knew it also. "The best intentions invite the worst kind of trouble."

I blanched. Did he also mean me? Did he think that his good intentions of freeing me had brought trouble upon him?" I almost gave myself away, but Ashe's response stopped me.

"Lusting for ever greater power, blinded by the nethecite… Is that how you see me?"

"That does sound like someone I know," Balthier said. I thought he was talking about Ashe, and when they moved out of my range of hearing, I followed at a discreet distance, wondering how the princess would take it. It wasn't until I head Balthier's next words that I realized he was talking about someone else.

"He was obsessed with nethecite. It was all he cared about. He'd babble nonsense, blind to aught but the Stone's power. He'd talk about some 'Eynah', or was it 'Venat'? No matter." But I could tell it did matter, very much, to him, though I'd missed the beginning, so I didn't know who he was referring to. "Everything he did, he did to get closer to the nethecite, to understand it. He made airships, weapons… he even made me a Judge."

The sentence hit me like a bucket of cold water. I'd always suspected Balthier was Archadian, and it hadn't mattered to me, but now I discovered that he had been one of those legions of Imperial executioners in terrifying armour, and that was less easy to dismiss. Ashe, apparently, was having the same difficulties as I.

"You were… a _Judge_?" Her voice sounded as shocked as I felt.

"Part of a past I'd rather forget." Balthier's response came dimly to my ears. "It didn't last long. I ran. I left the Judges… and him." I began to recover from my surprise as I sensed the pieces falling into place. The fact that he had left the Judges of his own volition made me feel a little better about it, and the truth was that he _was_ Archadian, and in Archadia the Judges were a very noble, respectable order, worthy of aspiration… at least, I supposed, to outsiders. It was a comfort to know that not all Archadians thought the atrocities the Judges committed were part and parcel of war. But I wondered who it was that Balthier kept referring to with such mingling amounts of regret and hate.

"Cidolphus Demen Bunansa," Balthier said, with an actor's flair, as if in response to my unspoken question. "Draklor Laboratory's very own Doctor Cid." He said the name as though it was some villain in a children's tale, but it wrenched my heart, without knowing why. "That was when he lost his heart to nethecite, lost himself. And I suppose that's when I lost my father." Such a simple sentence. Four words, four thousand meanings. And suddenly, I understood.

Balthier turned from his contemplation of the waves and spoke to Ashe, as though suddenly remembering she was there. "Don't follow in his footsteps. I ran away. I couldn't stand seeing him like that, a slave to the Stone. So I ran. Free at last." He gave a self-depreciating smirk. "Funny I went for the Dusk Shard. How could I have known that it was nethecite? And then, of course, I met you." Something about the way he said that sentence gave me a pang of jealousy, though I tried to suppress it. It was not my place.

"All that running, and I got nowhere," Balthier continued, as if to himself again. "It's time to end this." He stretched, like a man weary after bending for hours over some dull toil. "Cut my ties to the past." I would have said he'd done a fair job of it, though obviously he didn't think so. It saddened me to think that the man who put so much value on freedom was not himself free, as I had previously thought, and my heart went out to him.

"It's hard to leave the past behind, I know," Ashe said, playing with the silver ring she always wore around her finger. It seemed to me as though she were going to say something else, but forgot it, lost in the realm of memory. Balthier waited, as if understanding what she was going through, before waking her out of it.

"The choice is yours to make. But don't give your heart to a stone. You're too strong for that, Princess." And for once, the name was not mocking. Ashe sighed.

"I pray you're right, Balthier."

When Balthier finished speaking, I felt a pang of longing that had nothing to do with his pants, or his eyes. It had to do with wanting to comfort the man I loved.

But I was unsure of how to go about it, so that night, once I had finally managed to convince everyone that it was my turn to watch, I sought out Fran, who never seemed to sleep.

I had hardly spoken with the viera since our meeting in the _Strahl_, since she was quiet by nature and she'd had little to say to me, or I to her; though she had not been actively hostile, either, I was still wary of those claws.

To my surprise, however, it was she who spoke first.

"He is an intriguing Hume, is he not? Balthier." She looked in a way almost mothering to where Balthier's sleeping form lay atop his bedroll – we'd all decided the night too warm for tents and had camped under the stars.

"Yes," I said, looking as she did and reflecting that only a Hume as intriguing as Balthier could have inspired a viera's trust. I hoped my voice didn't sound as soft and anxious as I thought. Balthier nearly always slept face-down. I wondered if it was difficult.

Apparently Fran caught my tone, for she turned those red eyes on me. "You wish to understand him?" She did not sound surprised, merely curious.

"I – I don't know." I liked the idea of Balthier as this dark, mysterious being. "I suppose I do. Just on his own time."

"That is well," Fran said, as I scanned the night with my eyes, "for it is that way and no other with Balthier."

"I want to help him," I blurted out, turning back to Fran. "He's in pain, I know it. I can see. But without understanding him I don't know how."

"Be true to yourself," Fran said, with the inflection that only viera could muster: half-kind, half-patronizing, "however trite it may sound. That is what Balthier needs most of all. He gauges his own persona by those around him. As long as he knows where you stand, he will stand by you. Balthier is a different man to different people, and his greatest weakness lies in his attempt to please all at all points. If you remain stable, he will come to you, for nothing of this earth or off it will keep Balthier from what he wants."

It was the truth, and I looked at Balthier with a new understanding. It seemed Fran knew him better than he knew himself. But I didn't think that Balthier could change to suit anyone and said so.

Fran gave that damnably seductive chuckle. "Think you not? Then tell me why each of them travel and fight alongside him." With a single gesture, she indicated the party in general. I told her I had no idea.

"Then I shall tell you. To Vaan, Balthier is a mentor, and a master, someone to be pleased, like a father. To Basch, he is a comrade-in-arms, a fellow knight errant to defend Ashe. Yet to Ashe, he is something more, conjuring up memories of her dead husband, though not yet a replacement for him. And Penelo sees him as an older brother, and protector. And to you, he is a symbol of freedom, and the more you lust for freedom, the more you are drawn to him."

I sat flabbergasted, unable to speak for several moments, until I realized that she had left someone out. "And what about you, Fran? What is Balthier to you?"

Fran smiled mysteriously. "He is my partner." And in that sentence was all the answer I would ever need. I looked back to Balthier. As he slept, he looked so fragile. I wondered what he was to himself, in his heart of hearts, and if the reason he slept face-down was to hide his unprotected face from the rest of the world. I had to resist the urge to stroke his hair.

Fran must have noticed my look, for when she spoke, her voice had a smile in it.

"Fear not. He will come to you, when he is ready, and he comes to you faster than any other I have seen. He does not give his trust easily, does Balthier. You have been given a great charge."

As though sensing our topic of conversation, Balthier shifted in his sleep, in the clutches of some dream or another.

"What do you mean?" I asked. Fran was silent for a while.

"Always has Balthier been betrayed by those he loves. It is his curse. Betimes he looks at me and I sense that he is pondering when I, too, will leave him. I have worked hard to convince him otherwise, and it has been a difficult path for both of us to walk."

"But… why? What's happened to him?"

The appearance of a glint of eyes just outside the ring of our fire forced me to break off the conversation, and I rose to take down the silver lobo prowling too close to the camp. When I came back to sit beside Fran, her eyes were shuttered.

"That is for Balthier to tell you. It is not my memory, and thus not my right."

Nothing I said could convince her otherwise, so at last when Ashe woke to relieve me of my watch, I gave up the conversation for lost and went to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! I'll be making up a lot of Balthier back-story as well as others - you saw what I did with Vaan. Never fear, the action will pick up in the next chapter...


	12. Swimming

**Disclaimer: **Mayhap you think me remiss!

**A/N: **And now we have a classic scene that I would have indeed been remiss had I not included. You'll see why very soon. For all you Balthier fans out there (and if you're not, I am forced to wonder why you're here) will get some action! Thank-you very much for all your wonderful reviews - words can't express how much they mean to me. So without further ado, please enjoy chapter 12.

* * *

The next morning found us in the Caima Hills. Ashe tried in vain to keep us together: all the children wanted to do was swim. Balthier tried to get her to 'lighten up'; the end result being that Ashe finally relented, to raucous cheers from Vaan and Penelo.

Vaan declared a jumping contest, proclaiming from the top of a cliff that he would emerge triumphant. He took a running leap and fell to the water, the ululations he had been uttering cut off abruptly in a belly flop. We all winced.

Penelo, laughing, twirled almost to the edge, turning in a flip before slicing into the water, her dancer's training making her graceful, even if she was a novice swimmer.

Basch showed a side of wildness to his personality that I hadn't known existed, plummeting off the cliff in a cannonball that brought the tide out early.

Balthier smirked and leapt off the cliff, arms wide as if to encompass the whole world, seeming to fly for the briefest of instants before falling into a dive with perfect form. Fran followed him a second later, her hair streaming out behind her like a veil, shimmering in the sun. Ashe, on the entreaties of the entire party, jumped in last.

As for me, I stayed on the shore, sitting under a palm tree and watching their antics. Balthier, shirtless, dripping wet, left the water where the others were splashing around and came over to me. Standing there, edged with sun, his body tanned and gleaming, he seemed a god, and might as well have been, for I worshipped him so.

"Is the bud bit with an envious worm ere she can spread her sweet leaves to the air, or dedicate her beauty to the sun? Could I but learn from whence her sorrows grow, I would as willingly give cure as know." He smirked. I replied with the line I knew I must, amazed that I could remember anything in the haze that clouded my brain.

"Why, that these violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss consume. Besides," I said, dropping out of verse and pinking, "I don't know how to swim."

"Don't know how? Well, that won't do at all. If all our other Rabanastran companions can swim, it would be an insult. Come on." He offered his hand. I took it, unthinking, and he lifted me to my feet and began to lead me to the water.

"What are you doing?" I asked, bewildered.

"I am going to teach you," he replied.

I shook my head in silent wonder, hesitating at the edge of the waves as he foraged ahead, not quite waist-deep, the effect of the salt water on his already form-fitting pants making me briefly consider entering the water just to take advantage. I took one step into the water, and then another, unsure, the unfamiliar touch of the waves around my ankles.

Balthier turned back to look at me, sighing to see me still at the shore. He held his hand out to me again; patient as the day I met him. "Don't worry," he said. And I believed him. I took a deep breath and took his hand as he led me into the sea.

The water climbed higher – past my ankles to my knees, my thighs, my waist – I was suddenly half-immersed in the ocean, and wasn't ready for it. I gasped and flinched, squeezing Balthier's hand. He gripped my hand back, gently guiding me, holding me steady, and I was grateful, for I felt sure I was going to fall and drown. The water climbed to my stomach, and Balthier stopped. I was panting as though from some great exertion, feeling as though the gentle waves that played with me were massive breakers bent on my destruction.

"Take a deep breath," Balthier instructed, his calm voice seeming to come from miles away, "then bend your knees."

"No…" I stammered, terrified at the prospect of surrendering to the waves. "I can't!"

"I've still got you. I won't let go," Balthier continued, in the same calm tone, as though soothing a wild animal. "Just bend your knees until the water comes up to your neck. Just your neck." He took my hands in his.

"What about my hair?" I cried, grasping at straws.

Balthier's eyes held mine as he stood in the deeper water ahead of me. I supposed he was right – it was just an excuse, as my hair was already wet, the end of the braid floating behind me. I gripped Balthier's hands tightly and slowly lowered myself into the water. It came up to my neck, and I held on for dear life, the water closing in around me, as though it wouldn't settle for just my neck, having gotten this much of me, and would now take the rest. If I had been about to fall before, I was in an even more precarious position now and would surely have drowned.

"Straighten your knees."

With an immense effort, I pulled out of the sea's embrace, shivering slightly, though the water was warm. My hair and shirt clung stiffly to my body, but I didn't care. I could still breathe.

"Well done," Balthier said. "You'll get your head wet another time – it's too early now." He let go of my hands abruptly, and came to stand behind me, and I staggered for an instant, off-balance. His arms caught me, this time on my shoulders, and kept me from falling.

"Now I'm going to teach you the basic stroke. Do what I'm doing." In a different kind of embrace, I watched as he moved his arms fluidly through the air, one going forward as the other went back. In his arms, I tried to copy him, flailing and getting tangled.

One touch stilled me. "Slow down." There was a smile in his voice. "Don't move an arm until the other one is in place. Scoop the water towards you." He started up his demonstration again, and I followed, slower this time, and calmer. I closed my eyes and let the rhythm overtake me, thinking that if this was all there was to swimming, it might not be so bad after all.

"Good, you've got it," Balthier said, voice breaking me from my reverie. I turned my head so I could see part of his body, wondering what came next.

"Now, you're going to try it in the water," Balthier told me, and I felt a flutter of panic stir my heart – not as bad as before, but still nervous. But when Balthier shifted his balance and took my feet out from under me, flipping me until I lay across his arms, horizontal in the water, I fought to keep my face out of the water, struggling even against Balthier, I felt icy fear grip my heart, making desperate all my motions. There was water in between me and his arms now; surely the jealous sea would take me away from him.

For all that, when he tightened his wrists around my torso, he could still command me to stillness.

"Stop that. I'll keep your head from going under. You said once that you trusted me, and I wasn't even there at the time. Why can't you trust me now, when I'm right here?"

His words soothed me, and I relaxed slightly, the gentle pull of the waves no longer signifying death, but curiosity.

"Now I want you to kick your legs. They're like your propellers. Pretend you're walking – the motion is the same. That's it, nice and slow. Easy now." Feeling silly, I kicked, getting nowhere.

"Good. Now, remember the arm motion I showed you? Put them together." I did, clumsily at first, unable to sync my arms and legs, but Balthier was patient, and after a while I managed it, without as much effort, my arms and legs cutting through the water as Balthier held me stationary.

His voice came to me over the churning of water, in the rhythm of my strokes. "Turn your head from side to side along with your arms, to the side that isn't up." Of course – the request was a sensible one; what could be easier? I did as he told me, feeling one with the sea and sun and sky, and with Balthier's arms, hardly noticing the first time I got my face wet.

I made one stroke after another, forgetting all my fear, and lingering in the moment, the touch of the waves now a caress, my breathing falling into a steady beat with the turn of my head. It was several seconds before I realized that Balthier's arms no longer held me and that I was swimming on my own.

And, though I had been fine before, that realization shook me to the core, and my rhythm broke and I foundered.

In one smooth stroke, Balthier was there, supporting me again, smiling with approval. "There. That wasn't so hard, was it? But I think that's enough for the day. We'll be by the coast for a few days yet – there will be plenty of time for you to master the basics. You did well, Siyana." He drew me into his sun-warmed embrace, and I followed him into deeper water, no longer afraid, though never straying far from the safety of his touch. He showed me joy in swimming, playing with the waves and with each other. Penelo and Vaan discovered us, and immediately engaged us in a splashing war, in which I eagerly partook, and when Ashe called from the shore that it was time that we should move on, I realized that I had been having _fun_, and was sad to leave the water, which I never would have believed of myself before. I thanked Balthier, and he gave me a courtly bow, shrugging it off as nothing. But I saw his gaze linger on my soaked shirt, and I could not keep my eyes from his bronzed chest. When I emerged on the shore and began the arduous process of wringing out my hair, his eyes followed my every move.

That night, a cool wind blew down from the Tchita Uplands, necessitating the use of tents. When Balthier discretely drew me into his, I knew my night had just begun.

That night, I discovered that there was a difference between having sex and lovemaking. What I had known as making love and called lovemaking for convenience's sake was in fact only a parody of what I did with Balthier in the tent. Balthier was not mine – far from it, in fact. The heart that he gave me was not that which I craved, but a player's heart, a prop to be used on the stage, convincing the audience but known to the players as cold, signifying nothing. I indeed felt as though I was a player, caught in a never-ending production of _Balthier and Sephira_, and I wondered at times whether our love was not in fact as star-crossed as theirs. But none of that mattered. What, realistically, could I ever hope to claim Balthier than that which he had already given me? Fran had told me I had been given a great trust, and I had been, and I vowed I would do my utmost to be worthy of it.

* * *

**A/N: **It's going to be a long, hard road, and Siyana definately has an inferiority complex. And of course, Balthier being Balthier, nothing can last for very long. Next chapter will introduce a further complication I doubt any of you readers might have foreseen. But more about that next week!


	13. Unexpected Developments

**Disclaimer: **'Aren't we going to disclaimer?' 'Not if you don't want to end up _twisted_...'

**A/N: **So, for all of my mystery, I give away the complication in the first line! Now, before you tear me into little pieces and throw me to the dogs, let me explain myself. This is not going to become a 'romantic interest with every boy in the story' story. (Vaan's safe, he's too young anyway). lol... and if you've read all this without skipping your eyes down to the first line, kudos to you. All I want to say is... before you send me flamers, give it a chance. I'm sure you won't be disappointed.

Well, that was longer than it needed to be, so without further ado... Chapter 13!

* * *

I also began gradually to discover that I enjoyed the company of Basch. The princess' knight was simply fun to be around. In the beginning I liked to tease him, since he was so obviously uncomfortable with a prostitute in their midst. He was very stern with me, which only made me tease him the more. I would make flirtatious eyes at him when he looked at me, and move seductively through the camp when he was on watch. I would (now that I was able to swim) endeavour to get myself wet several times a day while we were along the coast, and used my soaked clothes to my best advantage. I sent the rest of the party into spasms of horror at the language I used, and everyone generally wondered what kind of loose woman they were stuck with – all except Balthier, who early on figured out what I was doing and often had to duck out of our convoy to hide his fits of laughter.

At last I decided that invoking the ire of my companions was not worth seeing Basch pink along his hairline as I spouted innuendos, so I resolved to end the farce. In addition, Balthier had ceased to be amused by my façade and I had begun to detect what seemed to be disapproval in the glances he shot me, and I had no desire to lose what I had so recently gained. Driven by these thoughts, I sought Basch out.

An opportunity presented itself when he was on watch. He turned away as I approached him. It stung, because it had not been my intent to alienate him, but I supposed it was only natural. I sat down beside him, and after the briefest of hesitations, put my hand on his arm.

He shied away as though my touch burned, shifting away from me on the ground. He said nothing.

"Basch…" I sighed, trying to find words. "I'm sorry." Still he did not speak. I finally just blurted out everything I wanted to say.

"I'm not really… like that. I have the same feelings you do, I love the same way in my heart, if not in my actions. If perhaps I am not as modest, that is a case of necessity made habit and not of my choice. Contrary to what you might believe, I did not enjoy being a prostitute."

"I did not believe you enjoyed it." Basch finally broke his silence. "Which is why I did not understand your flaunting of it."

"You know I only did that to upset you," I said, attempting a grin.

A single raised eyebrow. "You… were teasing me?" I nodded. "I thought it was fun. And that was wrong. And that's why I'm sorry." I rose to leave.

A hand grasped my wrist and prevented me from leaving. His grip was strong, making it clear why he was so good with a sword.

"Can I tell you something now?" He fixed me with such a look that I sat down again. For all that he had my attention, he hesitated a little.

"I didn't despise you," he said. "I wanted to, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Because you were so open, sharing everything... Then you changed. I didn't know what to make of it." He pinked again.

"But you didn't mind it, did you? Not really, after all that. And that made you uncomfortable, didn't it?" He nodded. I smiled.

"You know, my training includes other things too, not just the bedchamber. Table service, good conversation… I'm sure I'll be able to find something you like."

"No," Basch said. "I can't just receive. It wouldn't be right." His words echoed mine, all those months ago.

"You're asking me what I want?" Sometimes Basch could be as stubborn as Balthier. Basch was silent. "You could teach me how to use a sword," I suggested. A faint half-smile crossed his normally stern face.

"It's a deal," he said. Grinning, I kissed him lightly on the cheek and departed. His shocked gaze followed me all the way back to my tent.

The next morning found us in the foothills of the Tchita Uplands. Balthier beckoned me over from where I had been walking with Basch.

"I just thought you should know," he said, without preamble, "the Tchita Uplands are infested with Serpents."

I could feel the blood drain from my face and I stood rooted to the spot. _I must master myself_, I thought desperately, _I must not show weakness… _But all I could see in my mind's eye was the set of three terrible fangs, protruding from a mouth filled with venom so powerful one bite could instantly kill a grown man. And those terrible heads, towering over you with that writhing, scaly malevolence, stuck all over with fluttering, squirming wing appendages that seemed to have no purpose but to convulse you into fits…

Balthier waved a hand in front of my face. "Siyana? You all right?" When I failed to respond, he sighed.

"Very well. Stay close to me – I'll take care of you." Only Balthier could make such an endearing statement sound like a chore. "Unless, that is, you would prefer our resident Knight Gallant?" I shook my head. I didn't want Basch to know anything about my fear. A strong man like him would never understand. Balthier seemed satisfied.

I followed Balthier like a shadow for the rest of the day, never letting more than a foot of space separate me from his protecting presence. I felt like a child still clinging to my mother's skirts (though I could never recall having done so), for the mere fact of our closeness did not make the Serpents appear any less frequently, but it seemed to improve my attitude some. Only once did I experience truly paralyzing terror, and that was when one of the creatures popped up from the ground right beside us – none of the leading party had cleaned it out. I clung to Balthier, closed my eyes when I heard the shot of his Aldebaran – did it have to be so damned _slow_? – and prayed that when I opened my eyes it would be gone. It was.

"Honestly, Siyana, get a grip on yourself," Balthier told me, shrugging me off to replace his gun, and I was shamed into blushing. Not enough, however, to rid Balthier of his limpet.

Truth to tell, my already almost obsessive love for Balthier increased when I watched him, standing between me and the Serpents. I never knew how he felt about it – perhaps he didn't feel anything at all. We did, however, make an excellent team – my senses being on high alert, I would be able to warn him about Serpents he couldn't see yet and he would take them down from afar. Often the leading party would turn to attack and there would be nothing there, courtesy of my protector.

I noticed Basch giving me some odd looks throughout the day (the rest of the group did too, of course, but their looks were mostly directed at Balthier), but I could not decipher them, nor decide what they were for.

"You know," Balthier said to me during a lull in the fighting, "there's still at least another day of this before we get to Sochen. Are you sure you can handle it?"

I paused at that. _Another day?_ I would have to calm down or I would give myself an ulcer. I nodded feverishly, too nervous to do anything else. Was I getting in the way? Would Balthier abandon me here? I resolved to do my best to conquer my fear.

Of course, there were other enemies in Tchita, and I aided in those fights. Coeurls were prominent, and I felt sad about killing the magnificent-looking beasts until one of them slammed me with so many status effects that I got confused. I went around hacking at nothing, unable to see, poison rushing through my veins, feeling sluggish, like I was moving through water. I could hear everyone laughing, and I turned towards the sound and got a few good whacks in, until Fran in her mercy graced me with an expert casting of Esuna.

That night at camp, I used my fear as an excuse to stay close to Balthier, and Balthier did not move away. I sat near him until Basch approached me, holding a sword.

"I picked this out of one of the treasure urns," he said. "It's time for your first lesson."

Balthier looked at me sharply, but I was too excited and nervous at once to notice. I got up and followed Basch, who went a little ways from the camp. I was slightly apprehensive, but soon discovered that I felt just as safe with Basch as I did with Balthier.

Basch held the weapon out to me. "Take it and we'll start our first lesson: holding the sword." I took the Mythril Sword. It felt strangely heavy and unwieldy after years of daggers, rods, and poles.

Immediately Basch was dissatisfied. "No." He stepped to my side. "Not like that. You can't choke up the shaft – your hand must be loose and free to move."

I grinned and adjusted by grip as though pleasuring someone's shaft.

"Better," Basch said approvingly, and I resisted the urge to giggle. "But your feet are all wrong…"

So it continued for the better part of an hour, and by the time we were done I was so exhausted from holding the sword that I couldn't possibly imagine swinging it. I discovered that sword lessons were incredibly sexual encounters. I tried not to make it more uncomfortable for Basch than it already was, but when he was adjusting the set of my hips in my stance, by sheer force of habit I thrust against him and he staggered, losing his train of thought. He ended the lesson soon after.

The next day, Balthier once again grudgingly placed himself in front of me without a word being spoken. My heart was filled with a gratitude I couldn't describe, for him carrying on like nothing was happening, my knight in shining armour.

The thought made me look to Basch, but he was very pointedly not paying attention to me. This fact having more of an effect on me than I liked to admit, I lavished my attentions on Balthier: caressing his shoulders, touching his hands whenever I got the chance, running my fingers through his hair. I could not have been happier when he responded in kind, at one point taking me off into the bushes and giving me such a kiss that I saw stars.

"Will you make love to me tonight?" I whispered, unable to bear it. He nodded, eyes dark, and I exulted.

A Serpent chose that moment to make its appearance. I was so startled that I dealt it a critical hit with my pole before I even realised my weapon was in my hand. Balthier finished it off with a well-placed shot that I could hear flying past me as I stood.

Balthier stayed there a moment with his hand on my shoulder, where he'd put it the instant the Serpent appeared. He looked at me with approval.

"And that, my dear, is why you needn't be afraid." I grinned, less at the conquering of my fear than at the whole situation: Balthier and the fact that he had just called me 'dear' and that I would be in his bed tonight foremost in my mind. Afterwards, I went around despite my heavy gear dispatching Serpents with a vengeance – though they still had the power to make my insides quail in terror, I used that to fuel my attacks, increasing my satisfaction when they lay in a heap at my feet.

After passing through a small valley containing a young Archadian boy, the meeting propelled us into a hunt for a strange and terrible beast that we had heard about in the Hunters' Camp – our only guide a drawing on a hunt poster that looked like it had been drawn by a blind five-year-old with only the faintest idea of how to use a quill.

I overheard Balthier speaking to Fran as we continued through the Uplands: "Gods, Fran, was I ever that much of a stick?" Fran gave her unintentionally seductive chuckle. "Never. You were worse." And Balthier sighed self-detrimentally, taking Fran's hand. "Good thing I had you to correct me, then," he said, smiling at her with an openness he never showed to me. I quickly smothered my flash of jealousy: who was I to intrude on their long-held partnership and friendship? Thinking about the years of association that they had had that I would never be able to enjoy somehow made me very lonely, so I found myself nearer to Basch. Balthier apparently no longer thought protecting me necessary. The thought saddened me, and almost before I knew what I was doing (but not quite), my hand was in his. He was so surprised that he almost let go, but to my surprise (and his as well, I am certain), he continued to hold my hand until we got to Sochen.

"No need to fear," he whispered kindly in my ear. "Sochen may be large, but it is not cramped, and is fairly well-lit. We won't be there for long." I smiled and squeezed his hand, touched by his concern.

"Thank-you, Basch, but I'm not afraid of Sochen. I just wanted to hold your hand." I was deprived of his expression by the dark that enveloped us as we entered the cave.

Vaan seemed unsure. "Hey, you sure this rabbit hole's really the way into Archades?" I frowned. How could he doubt Balthier? Surely the man knew his own way home? Then I remembered that he hadn't heard about Balthier's past and shook my head, willing myself not to comment. This was Balthier's show.

"Better a hare unseen than a rat in a trap," Balthier replied. "Then again, if you'd prefer to go knocking on the front gates of the city, be my guest." His voice was very ironic, and I wondered if Vaan caught the implication.

"But what about once we're inside?" Penelo asked worriedly. "Won't the city watch find us?"

_This assumes that they're looking,_ I thought, and my sentiments were voiced by Ashe.

"We'll do what we can to blend into the crowd," she said, and I withheld my thought that it would be very hard for a group of seven travel-stained Dalmascans and sky pirates to "blend into the crowd" of the capital's elite. "Our names may be notorious, but our faces are not far-known," Ashe continued. _Well, most of them aren't_, I silently corrected her, thinking of the wanted posters for myself, Fran, and Balthier.

"True, true," Vaan said, sounding like he was trying to imitate Balthier. "You're our princess and we didn't even recognise you." I was unsure of whether it was a small lash back at Ashe for not being what her people had expected.

"I noticed," Ashe said, her voice laden with sarcasm. Obviously she had chosen to interpret it the other way – that she looked nothing like a princess of old. Penelo giggled that Vaan's gibe had backfired, and Vaan clasped his hands behind his head, this seemingly what the boy did when embarrassed. Ashe walked away, back stiff. Perhaps the dart had struck truer than she had let on.

It was true – the dark was slightly unnerving, as was the time it took for our eyes to adjust, used to the bright light of Tchita. So long, in fact, that by the time they had done so, a group of zombies had converged on us without our noticing.

The party immediately sprang into action, Vaan screaming bloody murder and waving his Platinum Sword – he hated zombies because they scared Penelo. Balthier, unusually quiet, his witty comments markedly absent, fired his Aldebaran into the heart of the group. Fran flew into the fray with her Gokuu Pole, the weapon seemingly only an extension of herself as she fought with all the ferocity of a cornered animal. The rest of us hung back, not needed in the fight, but ready if we were. Still holding Basch's hand, I watched as Balthier and Fran fought together – how they wordlessly covered each other's weaknesses, moving easily to where they were needed in an intricate dance whose steps were known only to those two partners. I regretted that I had not stayed with Blayne long enough to do the same. My irrational feeling of loneliness increased, but the warm, solid comfort of Basch's hand helped me somewhat.

We came, at length, to a junction where we were swarmed by Imps. This time, all hands were needed in the fight, and Basch released my hand to draw his axe. I felt a pang that had little to do with the removal of warmth and drew my Zephyr Pole, taking out my frustration on the Imps.

A little alcove guarded by three green Gorgimeras contained the Map Urn we so urgently sought, left in such places by the Cartographers' Guild to aid travelers such as we. Now that we were able to set ourselves on a sure path, we made good time through a central area with waterfalls until we reached an ancient door.

"The mark poster says we will find the monster beyond this door," Ashe said, glancing at the notice once again. "We had best enter prepared." Everyone dropped their packs and readied their weapons. To my surprise, Ashe approached me.

"Have you ever been in a major battle before, Siyana?"

"I've hunted marks before, if that's what you mean," I replied, unsure. Was she questioning my experience or my bravery?

"Well and good," Ashe said, and a rare smile crossed her face. "Then you can fight. Just be sure to do exactly as Basch and I tell you. If I understand aright, you've had little practice with group combat." I gave my pole an experimental twirl.

"Of course, Princess," I replied with alacrity. When she shot me a look, I shrugged. I couldn't help it – not only was it reflex to call her 'Princess', Balthier did so, too, and it had rubbed off on me.

Her command was easy enough to obey – she and Basch were the main strategizers in the group. Balthier and Fran, too, to some extent, planned surprise attacks and the occasional infiltration, but Basch and Ashe were the military geniuses behind the dozens of main battles whose tales had enthralled me around the campfire – giant wyrms, judges, and even two Espers which were kept in the summoning dark by Ashe and Balthier.

"All prepared?" Basch asked the group at large. All replied in the affirmative, so Basch pushed the door, which swung open slowly on its hinges, and we entered the room beyond.

* * *

**A/N: **Next week: Siyana's first boss battle!


	14. Complicated

**Disclaimer: **No disclaimer, or I'll call the wrath of Ratsbane upon you!

**A/N: **So, Siyana's first boss fight, a little foray into Balthier's past, and some further complications (hence the title). FYI, the story that I created for Balthier will not be found in any FFXII Secrets book - it actually happened to someone I know. I thought it fit, here. But first - we fight!

* * *

Five Mandragoras jumped together in a cluster and came at us with their cute (but deadly) cries.

"They're all together!" Ashe cried. "Vaan – Fran – Balthier!" Each looked up as their name was called. "Quickening chain! The Concurrence might wipe them out!" They obeyed, Vaan going first with White Spiral, a level 2 Quickening he'd learned from an elder in Jahara. Fran followed on his heels with Shatterheart, an ancient technique honed in Eruyt Village, all the anger and repression of her past brought to bear on her enemies. Balthier, oddly slow for him, unloaded Fires of War, his weakest Quickening, without even his usual quip of 'I never miss'. Vaan leaped into the breach with Red Whorl, giving Balthier time to cast a (severely delayed) Tides of Fate (once again devoid of his trademark comments), just as the Mist was about to rebound. Then Fran (who had always been the most sensitive to the Mist) found another source and gained new strength, unleashing a ferocious Whip Kick where before she had been drained. Balthier latched on to the new source and gasped out Element of Treachery, his most powerful Quickening, learned in Balfonheim from Reddas, who had taught it to the young pirate in order to make a point. But then the chaining picked up speed as Fran and Vaan kept finding new strength and left Balthier behind, who stood as if in a daze, drenched in sweat. I wanted to go to him, but the drain on the Mist kept me immobilised until the final Concurrence had been cast. Faster and faster Vaan and Fran chained, joining hands at last when they could do no more and shouting out the finishing phrase: "_So mote it be!_" The Mist rebounded with a tremendous crash, concurring with the others to form Ark Blast, a very respectable area attack. The three had done well.

Their ranks devastated, the four remaining Mandragoras ran off to heal, and Ashe allowed the first party a break. I went instantly to Balthier, but Basch called out: "Siyana! Southeast corner!" and I went off to help them finish off the Pumpkin King there.

The battle was over – the Mandragoras lay vanquished. Their spirits rose to the sunlight streaming in through the room's open roof from their little bodies, accompanied by the pealing of a bell from Gods-knew-where. I saw Balthier's eyes following them until they were lost to sight.

"Balthier!" I ran to him, checking him to see what had happened to make him so unresponsive. He wasn't injured that I could see, and had no status ailments. I looked especially for Sap, which was hard to remove and even more difficult to detect, but there was nothing. "Are you all right?"

He swore, shaking off my comforting hand. "I'm fine. Let me be!" Hurt, I released him, and he went to join the others.

Fran came up beside me. "Worry not. In a few hours guilt will drive him to seek you out. Balthier cannot remain angry for long.

"But why is he angry? Is it something I've done?" Fran shook her head. "He is angry with no-one but himself, yet he turns his ire onto others. It has always been his way. He will come around."

_With himself?_ I knew I would get no more answers out of Fran, so I merely responded: "I hope you're right, Fran." Passing me, without missing a beat, she quipped: "I am always right." She was serious. I followed her to catch up to the rest of the party and found myself next to Basch.

"How did you like your first major battle?" he asked me, traces of battle-wildness still in his eyes as he looked down.

I turned red with embarrassment. "I didn't do anything," I told him. "I spent most of my time worrying about everyone."

Basch took my hand. "It's good to have someone worrying about you," he said. "Sometimes that's all you need in a battle." He clapped me on the shoulder, nearly knocking me over. "Never fear, you'll get your chance next time." I couldn't decide whether this was a good thing or not. Considering the rate at which Vaan and Fran had turned out those Quickenings, I wasn't sure I could keep up.

We returned to the petitioner, who this time had his father with him. Out in the open air, everyone's spirits visibly improved. We received the prize for the hunt - 1000 gil and three Remedies - and the ever-irrepressible Vaan wanted to go all the way back to the Hunters' Camp in Phon Coast to join the Hunt Club that had refused him admittance previously (reasoning that they'd have to let him in now that he'd succeeded where the other hunters had failed), but he was very swiftly vetoed by everyone else. Balthier smacked him upside the head for being an idiot and that was that.

Balthier was much more cheerful now, and just as Fran had said, he sought me out. He took my hand, hesitating before speaking.

"Siyana… can you forgive me?" he asked, holding my eyes. "I have been, frankly speaking, a cad."

"Yes, you have," I said, kissing him lightly on the cheek to show all was forgiven. "But I wish you'd let me figure out why." An emotion flashed across his face too quickly for me to name, replaced by a grin.

"Wherefore, Sephira? What satisfaction canst thou have in that?" And he kissed me on my forehead chastely, just as the player would have done, and spent the rest of the trip shooting down Serpents for me.

Truly, an intriguing Hume.

But as we entered Sochen a second time, Balthier again because withdrawn and quiet, two terms that were not often used when describing Balthier. When spoken to, he snapped at everyone, even Fran, who alone of the group seemed able to accept his behaviour. I put it down to our proximity to Archades, and after hearing his story I couldn't blame him. I just tried to speak as softly to him as possible, and to refrain from retaliating when he whetted his tongue on me. Ashe was not so lucky – she and Balthier had a shouting match for a full ten minutes over who was going to cast Float on the party to avoid the traps, which brought Imps swarming down on us. In the end, Fran cast it.

Ashe and Balthier's constant bickering (for the incident had acted as fuel for them to bring all their other grievances of the past few months to bear on each other) was getting on my nerves, so I went to thank Fran for her good advice. She, too, was walking as far from Balthier and Ashe as possible, presumably because of her highly sensitive ears.

"Thanks, Fran," I murmured, falling into step beside her.

"Whatever for?" Her voice was amused.

"You were right, about Balthier. He apologized, right after we saw the petitioner."

"Indeed?"

I nodded. "But I think he's still in trouble. As soon as we got back here, he started acting the same way. Is it because we're getting so close to Archadia?"

"That is part of the reason, yes. In time, you may be able to discern the rest, for you will not hear it from me."

"The same thing you said back at the Phon Coast. Fran, won't you please tell me what happened?" She inclined her head, such a Balthier-esque gesture that I had to smile.

"I have been speaking with Balthier," she said, "and he has given me leave to relate the tale of his first betrayal to you."

"Did he now?" I wondered why he didn't just tell me himself, though upon reflection there could have been any number of reasons.

"It was some seven years ago. Balthier was still at the Akademy at that time, living in Archades." Since it was obvious I had overheard, Fran didn't bother to hide it. "There was an exchange student come over from Bhujerba also attending classes, whom Balthier had taken a liking to. They met and fell in love, and both were very happy. Balthier was deeply in love with the girl and intended to marry her when he was old enough – age of majority in Archadia is seventeen.

"Eventually, the time came that the student had to return to Bhujerba. She extended an open invitation to Balthier to stay at her home in the Skycity. On the occasion of his fifteenth birthday some months later, feeling stifled by the Akademy and his father, Balthier took her up on her offer. He bought a one-way ticket to Bhujerba and took flight on the promise that his love would be waiting for him at the Aerodrome. He fled the city, with the intention never to return."

I glanced from Fran's face to Balthier's shadowed outline. The liaison, I gathered, had not gone well.

My gaze shifted to Fran's eyes as the viera continued.

"He arrived in Bhujerba's Aerodrome without a gil to his name. He waited there the day long, in vain. The girl did not come. He was stranded with no-one he could trust, in a city he did not know.

"Balthier spent an uncomfortable night, and in desperation began to make inquiries concerning the fate and whereabouts of the girl, for he believed something terrible to have happened for her to regate on her promise. Gradually he began to piece together that the woman he loved had met another man, and run off with him, abandoning Balthier without a second thought. He bided his time until he encountered a nobleman known to his father, and returned to Archades, shamed, hurt, and angry. He told me that it was the last time his father truly held him, before the last remnants of his mind slipped away."

I gazed at Balthier's retreating figure. So, he had thought to make himself inaccessible, never to love, never again to be taken advantage of. It hurt me, as it no doubt did Fran, to be placed in the same category as that conniving woman, but there was no help for it. I could not convince Balthier otherwise with words alone – my actions would have to show him, day after day, that I would not leave him, nor betray him. And his father… I sensed that to be a tale for another time.

"That is why you must be careful," Fran said, her voice and eyes solemn as she followed mine. "The slightest lapse, the slightest perceived slip of trust, and the walls around his heart will go all the way back up."

As though sensing the topic of our conversation, Balthier turned directly to meet my eyes. That gaze, so dark, searched mine, and for the first time I could discern some of what was contained in it. For the first time I perceived that his eyes were not merely mysterious, but haunted. For myself, I took pains not to keep anything from my face, as I had never done before. I saw his eyelashes flicker once, confused, and then he turned away. Fran gave me a searching look, not unlike the one I had just received, and, wary of her scrutiny, I moved beyond her to walk with Penelo, whom I had not spoken to in some time.

"This… Sochen Cave Palace, they call it?" she mused, looking about. "I don't see what's so palace-y about it."

We'd reached an ancient door. Balthier opened it, turning to gauge Penelo's expression as it opened.

"These caves are just the antechambers. _This_ is where the Palace proper begins," he said, smirking at the look of awe on the young girl's face. "Though I'll be the first to say they're not much to look at."

The room beyond had carven pillars, a tiled floor, and a multitude of colours on the walls. It had clearly once been very fine, but it had now decayed much like the desiccated corpse that lay awaiting us as we entered. Penelo practically leaped into Vaan's arms to get away from it, and the rest of the party seemed equally shaken. Balthier wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"An adventurer bound for the capital, no doubt," he said. "It would appear he didn't make it."

Moss covered the walls, and the rank scent of mildew permeated everything it touched, making me wonder if I would ever be free of its clinging presence. At the far end of the room, there was a Crystal, and I went eagerly towards it. The constant fighting to get this far had been wearisome, and some refreshment was in order. I stretched out my hand to touch it…

"Siyana!" Balthier's voice was tight and clipped. No-one could say my name quite like he did. My hand froze, and I turned to look at him, confused. "Don't touch that!" he commanded, coming up and placing his hand on my arm, drawing me behind him. He aimed a shot at the Crystal and fired.

Immediately Water spells slammed into us, driving me back, away from Balthier. Normally, when Crystals were hit by accident, a paling around them prevented damage. "What is that thing?" I cried, above the sounds of battle.

"Crystalbug," Balthier grunted, re-loading his gun. He grimaced as he fired again. "Damned buggers. They imitate Crystals and lie in wait for unwary travelers to fall into the trap."

I belatedly took out my pole and got in a few good hits before being pushed back by Water. Looking around, I could see that the others were faring little better. I dashed the tears from my eyes as I readied myself for another go. Those things _hurt!_

"This is no good!" Balthier said grumpily, looking out at the disarray that was our party. "Would someone _please_ cast Silence?" he called in annoyance.

Fran made a rude gesture in his direction that I will not reproduce here, frustration making her irritable.

"It will not work – it resists all my spells," she replied. An idea came to me, and I shook my head to clear it.

"Fran! Perhaps together…" The viera nodded curtly, willing to try anything at this point, never mind that tandem-casting rarely worked even between two even of the same species. We joined hands, and I felt the raw, animal power emanating from Fran's limbs, as if to remind me further that she was not hume.

"On the count of three, then," I said, ignoring the chaos around me as I focussed on trying to make this work. Fran indicated her agreement and I began the countdown.

"Three…two…one…_now!_" We both began chanting.

What I noticed immediately was that though I thought myself a pretty quick spell-caster, there was a dramatic tone to my words that was absent from hers. I suppose that, for Humes, there is always a "showy" quality to magick, born of the desire to look impressive. Without realizing it, every time I cast, I declaimed like a player.

For Fran, magick was just a tool, and no more impressive than a hammer or a broom. She spoke the words much quicker than I, with almost no inflection in her voice at all. I was hard put to keep up – if we fell out of sync even slightly, the spell would fail.

In the beginning, it was extremely difficult, but as I got caught up in the magick, it became easier, and I grew increasingly thrilled by the feel of the power filling me, both mine and the foreign, exotic one of Fran's, and the final word and hand motion was carried out flawlessly. A faint purple sheen appeared around the Crystalbug.

In the sudden silence in the absence of Water, the party took a moment to catch its collective breath – the Crystalbug, being unable to move, posed no threat now.

I stood, panting, throat raw from the unnatural levels of power it had emitted, exhausted but deliciously and exhilaratingly _alive_. Fran turned her calm eyes to my upturned face, her demeanour still incredibly unchanged despite the ordeal she'd been through, and gave me a rare smile.

"Well done, Siyana," she said, putting her hand on my shoulder, and her praise was worth more than a thousand other acclamations.

Basch moved in and struck the finishing blows as Balthier came over to us, squeezing his soaked sleeves.

"Excellent job, you two," he said, and I swelled at his regard, even as I found myself drawn to the powerful lines of Basch and his axe. The killing blow was administered, the purple glow faded, and the Crystalbug was just a Crystal, and our hard-earned rest was won.

Fran and I, as the instrumental players in that victory, were awarded, by unanimous decision, first rights at the Crystal. I touched its multi-faceted coolness and felt vigour sweep through my bruised, tired limbs. Basch stepped up to use it next – our hands brushed, and I caught a faint tinge of red touch his ears. I thought about the promise Balthier and I had made and bit my lip, uneasy without knowing why. Surely I owed this man nothing?

Ashe examined the map and could find no better resting place than this, so she ordered our camp struck and tents pitched. We obeyed with alacrity, focussing our failing energies on this one task before strength failed us. When we'd finished, we ate a frugal meal of cold jerky (there being no fuel to start a fire) before bedding down. Ashe took the first watch, wanting time to plan our next move.

Balthier looked at me and I thought of our exchange. I shook my head, hardly able to believe the words were coming out of my mouth, feeling detached from my body.

"No, Balthier," I murmured. "I'm too tired."

He gave me an inscrutable glance, then shrugged. "As you wish. I wasn't the one who asked for it." He disappeared into his tent. I stood, for a while, feeling emptiness fill my insides, wondering if I hadn't made a mistake. It was true that I was deathly tired, and would certainly be unable to perform, but… the sensation of loss was overwhelming.

I took the empty space in Basch's tent, there being nothing for it. Basch joined me a little while later, having made sure the premises was safe for Ashe's watch (as he did every time it was her turn). He hesitated slightly at the entrance upon seeing me, just long enough for me to notice. He was in shadow, so I couldn't see if he was blushing. There was something about his silhouette that was gently appealing, though he was stiff as he entered and prepared for bed. I watched him, inexplicably fascinated, until he lay down to sleep. I, too, closed my eyes, and silence reigned in the tent. The only sound that could be heard was that of bickering from Vaan and Penelo's tent, drowning out the gentle hum of the Crystal. During dinner, Penelo had commented on the absence of the desiccated corpse near the door, prompting Vaan to inform her it was the contributor of the jerky she was eating. Penelo, it seemed, was as disgusted now as she had been then. Most likely one of the Crystalbug's Water attacks had reduced it to dust, but Vaan's gruesome analogy had made me look askance at my jerky nevertheless, especially considering that it was his turn to cook this week.

I hoped I would fall asleep soon, and escape the awkward silence and the pangs of regret that gnawed at me still, but to my surprise, Basch spoke.

"That was some good casting you did," he said. As conversation went it wasn't scintillating, but at least he was making an effort. His voice was closer than I expected.

"Thank-you." What else was there to say? Telling Basch he'd fought well was like telling a Judge he had lots of armour.

Silence.

"Has the princess decided what we're doing tomorrow?" A pointless question – Ashe had taken the watch so she could figure it out.

"No, she has not."

Silence.

Then, a jumble of noise – I'd said: "Basch, listen," at the same time that Basch had said: "Siyana…" Something about the way he'd said my name intrigued me. "Yes, Basch?"

"Ladies first. Please, continue."

Was that… _teasing_ I heard in his voice? The line seemed like something Balthier would say, rather than the dour Basch.

"Listen, Basch, I've told you before, I'm not going to start seducing you. I'm different now – besides, I was never like that. Not all prostitutes are loose women. But none of that matters – I'm too tired." _So tired, I refused Balthier what you would not even take, _I thought, with a wrench of my heart.

A shift – truly, this man was such a stick. I leaned across the tiny tent and planted a kiss on his lips, contrary to my previous statement. His shocked stillness lasted only moments before I found him actually returning the kiss – and then what was intended to be a mischievous prank turned into something else altogether as Basch gathered me in his arms and lifted me across the tent with as much care and as little effort as though I were shards of crystal.

Nestled against his chest, having just experienced the strength of the arms that encircled me, I lay stunned (though not necessarily displeased) by this turn of events.

"Safe, am I?" Basch asked, with more than a touch of irony, and his voice vibrating between us made my hair stand on end. "No, I don't think either of us is safe."

Lulled swiftly into sleep, I was forced to agree, even though I had never felt safer in my life than at that moment.

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, I _know_ that Crystalbugs are immune to Silence, but I like to think that it's because in the game it's absolutely impossible to have two characters cast at exactly the same time. In storyverse, of course, there are no such restrictions. And no, Basch and Siyana did NOt have sex. Also, speculations on what else is the matter with Balthier are welcomed, but will not be confirmed.


	15. Secrets

**Disclaimer: **You're in good hands. Right, disclaimer?

**A/N: **So here we are with another chapter. I must say I was fairly surprised by the response to the last one. Reviewers seem to be divided into two camps: the curious and the furious. Most of you are Balthier supporters, of course, but I thought there would be a few who would cheer on the underdog. Oh well. Many of you also seem to be assuming things that I haven't explicitly said (and telling you who you are would give it away, so I'm not telling). Let it suffice to say that Balthier was not going to be jealous in the original draft of this chapter, but after reading all the reviews I decided that I couldn't pass up such an opportunity. Also: I'm not sure how many realize this (perhaps I haven't made it explicit enough), but the simple fact that Siyana was sleeping in Basch's tent would not be cause for suspicion on its own. There being only three tents, obviously when Siyana joined she wasn't about to get her own, so she would just sleep wherever there was space (the pairs, of course, being Vaan and Penelo, Fran and Balthier, and Ashe and Basch. So, since Ashe was on watch first, the empty space is in Basch's tent, and that, naturally, is where Siyana sleeps.  
Anyway, without further ado, please enjoy chapter 15!

* * *

When I woke the next morning, a sense of peace suffused me, and I remembered the kiss of the previous night and smiled. While it had not been as skilful as Balthier's (for no one in the world kissed as well as Balthier did) it had been enjoyable nevertheless. I rose carefully, for Basch's arm was still around me, and began the morning ritual of brushing my hair.

There are those who would think me foolish for going on such a journey with waist-length hair, and it was true that some days my hair was so filthy that I did not have the heart to take it out of its braid, but mostly regular brushing kept me on top of it. I knew that Fran brushed her loose-flowing hair no less than twice a day, and treated it with some kind of secret viera formula that she guarded jealously. I would have asked her for some of it, were I not afraid it would turn my hair white.

As I was finishing and my hair was falling into some semblance of order, Basch stirred. I was surprised that he was awake after me, considering that warriors as a group tended to be early risers and, when all was said and done, I was a former prostitute, accustomed to sleeping late. I ran the last stroke through my hair and was reaching for my hair tie when Basch spoke.

"You're beautiful, you know." I turned to look at him. He still lay on the bedroll, arms behind his head, watching me, no trace of sleep in his eyes. I blinked as his words sank in.

"I beg your pardon?" No one had ever said that to me before; not my parents (who were too caught up in their own interests to notice me very much), nor my patrons (who were mostly Imperials, and as far as they were concerned I was a filthy provincial whore there for their own pleasure and couldn't have cared less what I looked like, since Dalmascans couldn't afford me). And now here was someone who was not related to me, and whom I hadn't traded with, telling me what they had not. I didn't think I had heard him aright – especially not with my hair in the state it was.

"Siyana, I think you are beautiful." He was serious! Self-consciously, I gave my hair another pat.

"No. Not just that." He came to stand behind me and I found myself admitted to that land of strength and stability that was his arms. "You. All of you."

I thought that a rather daring statement to make, considering he hadn't _seen _all of me, but it touched me deeply nevertheless even as I thought longingly of how much I would give to hear those words come from Balthier's lips. I wanted to turn and bury my face in his chest, but I knew that if I did, I would cry, and I knew that he would misinterpret my tears.

"Thank-you," I whispered. His lips brushed the top of my head gently and he went out. I touched the spot gingerly, coming to the long-delayed realization that I had a problem.

When I came to the campfire for breakfast, as though to illustrate the nature of my problem, I found Basch and Balthier sitting side by side. Both of them looked up and gave me small, secret smiles completely independently of each other. Basch's was welcoming, open, happy even. Balthier's was his characteristic smirk. The first made me feel elated to have received, but I couldn't help but be aroused by the second. A dilemma to be sure. Two hearts, both so fragile, and I seemed to be responsible for both of them.

I sat down next to Ashe, which fortunately was not only the sole empty place, but the one farthest from both men. Ashe took the opportunity to inform me of our next course of action – the passages ahead formed a confusing maze, and she had decided that the easiest way through would be to stick to the eastern edge. She stood, stretching. The rest of us followed suit. "Best go prepared," she ordered. "Today we push for Archades."

As everyone scattered and began striking camp, Balthier's face seemed more mask-like than usual, and I noticed Fran stepping over to him to share a quiet word. I could only imagine how difficult this stage of the journey had to be for him, though since he would not suffer it to be spoken of, there was no way for me to get a better idea. He would see this thing through to the end, and so would I.

"Siyana, could you lend a hand here, please?" Penelo's voice shook me out of my thoughts: Vaan, arguing still, had tangled himself in the tent again. With a sigh, I went to help extract him.

While we trekked though the remainder of the Cave Palace, I found myself distracted, pondering not only what had happened last night, but my previous encounters with Basch as well. I was oblivious to everything else around me, and it always surprised me when we got into battles (which was often). Thus it was that when Balthier suddenly appeared at my side, I didn't notice him for several seconds.

"You seem to have recovered nicely from last night's fatigue, Siyana." Balthier said. There was an odd note in his voice, but then, there had been since we'd entered Sochen. I shrugged, looking up at him.

"Yes, thank-you. What of it?" It was a strange thing for him to say. He shrugged in turn. "Oh, no reason. Just worth mentioning is all." He shot down an Imp that was menacing us, then dropped back to Fran. I returned to my thoughts, bemused. A Zombie bashed me over the head for my carelessness, and I slurred a quick Cure, which healed my concussion, resolving to pay more attention. There were many traps in the next passageway, and Fran cast Float. As I flitted across the traps and rocks, I noticed a pale green flash around the corner. I sounded the alert.

"Map Urn!" Immediately the party turned to follow me as I engaged one of the three Gorgimeras guarding it. I opened the Urn, retrieving the rolled scroll inside and handing it to Ashe. She unrolled the map and studied it as the rest of us held off a couple of Pit Fiends that were drawn by the commotion. When we were finished, she turned to Balthier.

"Do you know of this room?" she asked, pointing to a tiny space in between the Mirror of the Soul and Falls of Time areas. Balthier shrugged. "It's one of the secrets of the Palace. There are two, according to legend. No one's ever survived long enough to prove them."

Vaan turned to Ashe, an eager light in his eyes.

"That seems like a job for us!" He exclaimed. "We'll solve the mysteries of Sochen Cave Palace!"

"Oh, yes!" Penelo agreed, becoming excited in turn. "Can't we? I think it would be fun!" Ashe sought other opinions, and Balthier seemed to be the only one who was actively opposed to the idea, so the motion passed. Ashe turned back to the map again. "There are smaller maps in the four corners, with routes marked out in red. Let's follow them and see what happens. We begin from the Falls of Time." She led the way down a tunnel. I could tell she didn't approve of the wasted time, but she also knew that without some form of distraction or stimulation, morale could quickly diminish, especially among the children. I could also see that she was as curious as they. Balthier's explanations had a way of doing that to people.

As though my thoughts had summoned him, Balthier was once again at my side.

"Basch seems to be in fine fighting form this morning, does he not?" he said. I frowned, confused by these sudden oblique remarks. "When is he ever not?" I asked. Balthier nodded knowingly. "True, true. It's just even more obvious this morning." Ashe called him up for clarification on some point, and he went to talk to her. Truly, this man was incomprehensible!

Ashe planned as we walked. When we were finished here, we would go north to the Hall of the Shadowlight, which was a large, open room that she suspected to contain a boss (here she used the slang term for a super-powerful enemy). Then it was a straight path into Archades.

"Why do you think this…Shadowlight has a boss in it?" I asked, trying to catch a glimpse of the map. There was indeed a notice put across the room's center by the Cartographer's Guild - _Beware: Doom!_ "Oh. I see."

"Even if that warning were not there," Ashe told me, "I would still know it for a boss' lair because the room stands alone, and is large and empty. This journey has taught me that much."

Ashe led us first west, all the way across the length of the Mirror of the Soul. As we re-entered Falls of Time, the course of the waterfalls seemed to have changed. It was Vaan, with his admittedly sharp eyes, who noticed it first, and that was when I began to believe that we could actually do this. Our next move was north into the area known as Destiny's March, and then east along its central passage, until we reached the second tunnel from the left, by which we returned to the Falls of Time. Vaan pointed out the falls that had moved, and I took his word for it, for I couldn't tell the difference. Ashe kept going, straight across Falls of Time back into Mirror of the Soul, and from there we went along until we could take the second tunnel from the left. This time, even I could see that the falls were in different positions, leading me to wonder how our walking around was causing the shafts of water to move. Our fourth and final path led around a chasm, up through the second tunnel to the left into Destiny's March, around the wall, and down the tunnel next to it, which was third from the left.

"We are going clockwise," Fran observed, and I realized it was true. As we entered Falls of Time again, the viera's ears pricked. "I hear a door," she said, and we all stared, for we'd heard nothing. Long association, however, inclined us to trust Fran, and we followed her to where she'd heard the sound. There was indeed a door here, and an inscription proclaimed it as the Pilgrim's Door. It also had directions for the moves we'd just completed in the form of a riddle that was more oblique than Balthier's references, and I, for one, was very glad that someone in the Cartographers' Guild had thought to kindly provide a route for us. Inside, we found the power Iga Blade, which was quickly snapped up by Ashe. As she quickly forged the licence so that she could wield it (since we were so often in the wild, far from a licenser's, what were we to do?), Fran cautioned her. "You know that if we encounter any Zombies, you must either hang back or switch weapons, for this is a ninja blade, and all such blades are imbued with the Dark Element." Ashe promised to keep it in mind, as I found Balthier beside me for the third time.

"Did you sleep well last night, Siyana?" he asked in a low voice. There seemed to be all sorts of meaning he imparted into his tone, but I could not uncover it. Was he subtly nagging me for refusing to sleep with him the night before? I tried to be tolerant, remembering how hard this trip was for him, wondering if it was messing with his mind.

"Yes, it was very pleasant," I said, smiling. "Why such interest, Balthier?" The man seemed to struggle with himself for several seconds.

"Because…" He tried again. "Why is Basch blushing every time he looks at you?" he asked finally, in a harsh whisper. "He's been doing it since this morning."

Startled, I looked up at Basch, who happened to be looking back at me at the time. Indeed, there was that faint shade of crimson around his hairline and the tips of his ears. As soon as he noticed me noticing, he quickly looked away and pretended to be busy with adjusting his sword belt. I blinked. What could have possessed him to act that way? Had it been the kiss? It was the only thing I could think of, but I didn't understand why it would make him behave so strangely. I tuned back to Balthier, who was looking at me significantly.

"Did anything… happen, while you were in Basch's tent last night?"

Let it be a testament to how completely clueless I was at that time that I had absolutely no idea of how it must have looked to Balthier: my having turned him down to sleep in Basch's tent, and Basch emerging looking like he'd just hit puberty. In my defence I can say only that I was a former girl of gil (though that is no excuse), and so desensitized that kisses no longer held any meaning for me – unless of course, they were with Balthier. I hastened to put him at ease. "No, nothing at all."

This of course was the absolute worst thing to say, had I been thinking straight, but I wasn't, since I was pondering the message scrawled across the Hall of Shadowlight. _Beware: Doom!_

Balthier's expression seemed to close a little bit.

"Oh? Glad to hear it." He went to inspect Ashe's forgery of her licence, leaving me in the dark as ever.

Putting it down to the odd mood that he had been in for the past few days (since, in my eyes, a jealous Balthier was preposterous), I turned to Penelo, who was the group's unofficial sundries expert, by virtue of all the time she'd spent running errands for Migelo.

"Penelo, do you have any Remedies in stock?"

She thought about it for a moment, running through the inventory list she kept in her head.

"Not too many. Plus the three we got from that Archadian boy, we have five or six, I think. Why?"

I answered her question with one of my own.

Does anyone have Remedy Lore 3 licensed?"

She shrugged, looking confused. "I don't know. I don't, and Vaan certainly doesn't." A quick check of the party revealed that none of them had it, either.

"What is on your mind, Siyana?" Fran asked. I frowned, trying to think.

"When Blayne and I were in Rozarria, we saw many strange things. One of them was a monster with the ability to cast Doom." I paused, trying to remember – it was all very dim. "It cast the spell on me, and I started to feel nauseous and extremely cold, and I couldn't speak. It was like being hit with many status ailments all at once, only ten times worse. The most dreadful thing of all, though, was the countdown that echoed in my head, starting from ten. I could still move, so I helped Blayne defeat the thing, but afterwards he didn't know how to remove it and my time was up. I remember nothing until I woke next to a Crystal – luckily Blayne had found one not too far from the spot." I looked up at the party. "That's all I know."

"And you believe that the upcoming boss has this power?" Fran asked.

"It's certainly possible," Ashe answered for me. "I have never seen 'Doom' as a warning on maps before: normally it just says 'Danger', or suchlike. Perhaps Siyana is correct."

"So, how do we cure it, Siyana?" Penelo asked. "Is that why you asked about Remedy Lore 3?"

I nodded. "Blayne and I did some research after the incident and found that Remedies could cure Doom. Trouble is, it's extremely difficult to detect. It's impossible to ignore if you have it, but just like Sap, you can't see it. If we came up with a signal to show that we're under Doom…"

"That's no good, when we're fighting," Ashe said. "The slightest lapse could mean your life in battles like this."

"That's all well and good," Balthier cut in, "but does anyone here actually have the necessary Augment? Otherwise all this is just idle speculation." His voice was sharp – I figured it was because Ashe had used the last of the materials for forging. I noted it, however, because Balthier was usually the first to support me in such discussions.

"I do," I told him. "Blayne made sure we both got it after that battle, just in case."

"Well, since you seem to be such an expert, could you recognise the symptoms, if you saw it again?" Balthier asked.

I thought about it. "I suppose so. There is a certain amount of disorientation that comes with it."

"Very well." Ashe, always the organizer, went into action. "Since you are the only one among us with experience and knowledge of the ailment, Siyana, you should get the Remedy stock and heal anyone you see with Doom upon them during battle."

Penelo handed them over, and as I accepted them I felt a weight drop onto my shoulders. Far from shunning me, the party was now entrusting me with everything. I was determined not to let them down, and it was from that determination that my anxiety stemmed.

It was decided that solving one secret was quite enough for this trip, much to the children's disappointment. But we were now near the boss, and Ashe was anxious to move on.

I went to Basch. Unable to think of a way to say it discreetly, I brought all of my bluntness to bear.

"Basch, why are you blushing?" I asked.

The man gave a little start, turning but hardly able to meet my eyes. "Am I?"

I nodded. "Yes. Balthier noticed, and pointed it out to me." Had I not been so clueless, I would probably have been kinder, but what can I say? I had no idea.

"Did he?" He looked mortified, and the rosy tinge around his face drained to white.

"So, what's the matter?" I asked, not to be deterred. He hesitated.

"We… we _kissed_," he said. I nodded. "Of course we did. What's wrong with…?" My voice trailed away, realization coming to me far too late. "Oh. No." Basch was looking at me seriously, and I knew, then, what I should have known all along. The knight had placed much more significance to my thoughtless prank than I had. He thought it had meant something. And Balthier…

Gods, I was such an idiot!

Basch was now looking at me with something akin to despair. "Do you not think…?" My epiphany complete, I felt so terrible for him. I tried to make my voice as soft and gentle as possible.

"Basch… do you remember who I am?" I asked. "_What_ I am? Was?"

His face was set in a stoic line. "Of course. I know what you are, and I know also that I have no chance. Allow me to enjoy what little I have."

I blinked; the words suddenly making me want to cry. Was this how I treated the only one who had ever told me I was beautiful? Basch shook his head.

"Forgive me. I was unfair." He bowed. "I think it would be best if we didn't share tents for a while… just to be safe."

I nodded; feeling relieved, even as I thought that surely it was I who was being unfair. If I had known what my thoughtless flirtations to get a rise out of him in Phon would put in motion, things would have turned out very differently for me. But Balthier… how was I to broach the subject, now that I had all but confirmed his suspicions in my ignorance? I hadn't known how indelible the mark of just two years of prostitution was. I resolved, finally, just to tell him the truth (for hadn't I promised that to myself?) But there was no time.

Everything set in order, Ashe fearlessly opened the door and we entered the boss' chamber.

* * *

**A/N: **Next up - Ahriman!


	16. Doom

**Disclaimer: **Do you want to know the best use of a disclaimer? Will or nill I'll tell you.

**A/N: **Time for the weekly update! And because of the brevity of this chapter you get a SUPER UPDATE! That's right: two chapters in the time of one!  
However overly dramatic that may have been please enjoy chapters 16 and 17.

* * *

The enemy in question was a giant Lich which menaced the party as we entered. It liked to sling status ailments at the frontline fighters, Vaan and Basch, and the casters, Fran and Penelo, had their hands full with counter-spells. The support, Ashe and Balthier (and myself by extension), had little to do in the beginning and shouted encouragement to the fighters. I watched the battle anxiously for any signs of Doom. None were forthcoming, and I was treated to an amazing sight.

Basch, of course, was all strong lines and force, using finesse only in order to cause more damage. But his skill could not be denied, and nor could his power, and Ahriman (as Fran, the one of us most skilled in ancient lore, had named it), shuddered with each blow of his mighty Hammerhead. Vaan, though not a trained warrior like Basch, had nevertheless developed a fighting style that was just as effective and uniquely his own. He hacked away with his Platinum Sword and held his own beside Basch, and if each of his blows did not shake Ahriman to the core, they did the job.

Fran and Penelo, by this time, were expert casters, and their magickal chants rose and fell in beautiful melodies. For a while the only sounds were the exertions of Vaan and Basch, the power-laden words of Fran and Penelo, the groans of Ahriman, and our praises any time one of our own scored a good hit, and encouragement whenever they were dealt one.

Abruptly, the feeling of the air around us changed as Mist was gathered to our enemy, and almost before I could blink, the one Ahriman had become two, then four, then six. Ashe watched, eyes wide, but quickly snapped into command mode.

"Quickenings all! Get a Concurrence going!"

Vaan, as usual, was first into the fray, with nothing less than a Pyroclasm to get things rolling. Ashe was next with Heaven's Wrath, Basch managed to get in Fulminating Darkness, and the chain was off. I watched with the same sense of awe and amazement as I had the last time, though when Basch dropped out, spent, I took up his slack. I now was the proud owner of a level 2 Quickening, called Winged Arrow, that I had learned in the Hunters' Camp back at Phon Coast, which allowed me to send a hail of darts upwards into the sky to rain down upon my foes, but the chain would be better served by two links than just one, so I gasped out two Thousand Cherry Blossoms before I had to withdraw. Vaan and Ashe were still at it, but getting tired, when Fran stepped in to lend a hand. She had used much of her magick in curing, but so sensitive was she to the Mist that almost as soon as she entered the chain she had found another source, and was off. Vaan dropped out at last, completely exhausted, and Penelo stepped in, latching onto Fran's source. Ashe was still churning out the Quickenings, and I was forced to admire her stamina, but finally she dropped out. I expected Balthier, who had been still and quiet all this time, to enter, but he was too slow and the Mist rebounded, our chain of 10 hits triggering the Luminescence Concurrence which, while remarkable, was just slightly off Black Hole, the ultimate Concurrence, which all casters aspired to. There were no few grumbles, but we had little time to dwell on it, for while the chain had decimated the weaker Ahriman copies and seriously damaged the boss, the fight was still going, and this time, it was casting Doom.

Vaan was the first to get it – I saw the symptoms immediately as he dropped his sword and clapped both hands over his mouth. I wasted no time in administering a Remedy – though he vomited before I could get the contents down his throat, he managed to get most of it on Ahriman, and I was grateful for his aim. He felt better after my ministrations, and I ducked out of the fray as the battle continued. Five Remedies left.

I began whacking away with my Zephyr Pole, and managed to get in several good rounds of hits before Fran got Doom. She actually got away from the thick of things before signalling me over. Such was her stoicism that it was impossible to tell whether she was nauseous or not, but I scurried over and administered the Remedy, and all was well, with four Remedies remaining.

Penelo stumbled out of the battle, clutching her Traitor's Bow, her face clammy and pale. There were three Remedies still in my hand.

Ashe was a challenge. She wouldn't stop fighting, and she was much more adept at hiding her symptoms than others. But she did slow down, and that was my cue to dodge into the battle and force the Remedy down her throat. Two Remedies only remained to me.

The battle raged on, and Ahriman foundered. The party pressed on with renewed vigour, sensing the end of the battle. But the boss still had one more trick up its sleeve. It cast Doom (by now I could recognize the arm motion it made when it cast the spell), but this time it had an area effect, afflicting Basch, Balthier… and me. And I was one Remedy short.

With a decision to make and only seconds to make it, I hesitated only slightly before working through the discomfort and the ominous, painful countdown marking my time to live and went to give Remedies to Balthier and Basch.

10…9…8…7…

First to Balthier – he downed the potion in one gulp and grimaced at its taste, thanking me with a nod before returning to the fight, but I could still see the hesitation that gnawed at him.

6…5…4…

Basch, too, took his at a gulp, hardly pausing in the swing of his axe. He clapped me on the shoulder in gratitude, making my aching bones cry out in agony, and attacked with renewed vigour.

3…2…

The nausea became almost overpowering. Darkness encroached upon my eyes, and I sank to my knees. I heard concerned cries from the battle, but had no way to heed them.

1…

* * *

**A/N: **Aren't you glad I didn't leave you with a cliffie? Next up: Archades!


	17. Reconciliation

**Disclaimer: **Should anything untoward happen to me, you're taking the disclaimer.

**A/N: **Part two of the super update. A very long one to counter the previous very short one. Archades and (possible) reconciliation. The next few chapters are going to get really talky. I have no one to blame but myself.

* * *

I woke with the unmistakable feeling of Phoenix Down running through my veins and in my mouth. Fran's face was above me.

"Good. You have awakened." Her face withdrew, and I sat up, still feeling woozy, and held my head.

"Drink this," Fran ordered. I took the Potion, and after I drank it, I felt better, though I was forced to reflect for the thousandth time that the makers of something so useful and often drunk could at least endeavour to make it taste better.

"I am glad you are well," Fran said, an unusual display of emotion for the stern viera. "It took a Raise on top of a Phoenix Down to liven you, and Balthier and Basch have not been themselves." Her voice betrayed nothing of her thoughts. I rubbed my temples, still in the throes of a massive headache. _Yes,_ I thought, _definitely a problem._

"Why did you not mention there were not enough Remedies for all?" Fran asked, her voice quiet. I shrugged.

"No one could have done anything about it. And I truly did not expect to have to use them all. If I fall, it is no loss. Balthier and Basch are more important."

Fran inclined her head. "Logic worthy of a viera," she said, and I bowed from my place, aware that I had just been paid a high compliment. "But the party does not think that way," Fran continued. "Consider that in your calculations in future." She put a slender, clawed hand on my shoulder. "You have still not fully recovered, and we are far from a Crystal. Sleep now – Ashe has declared a day of rest after the battle."

I was indeed tired, and found it easy to obey Fran's order. My mind conjured images of waking to find a man at my side, and as I drifted off I found it disconcerting to discover I no longer knew which one I wanted there.

In the end such musings were pointless, for it was Penelo above me when I woke. I smiled up at her anxious face, touched by the gesture.

"Oh good, you're awake," Penelo said, the fact that her high-pitched voice did not cut into my head a good sign.

"What time is it?" I asked, in fear of holding up the party.

"It's still morning," Penelo responded. "At least, so Fran says – it's impossible to tell in this cave."

I lay back, relieved. I hadn't slept long.

"How are you feeling?" Penelo asked. "Fran says you shouldn't get up today, so do you want me to get you anything?"

I shook my head and sat up, ignoring Penelo's protests.

"I'm fine. Doom's knocked me out before, remember? Everything's all right." I stood, feeling disoriented only briefly before the tent settled and I felt better.

"Oh, before I forget, Basch told me to say thank-you," Penelo said. I smiled. It was so like Basch to notice.

"No one's been able to talk to Balthier," Penelo continued, as though reading my thoughts, and the expression on her face drove me to leave the tent and seek him out.

We'd entered a new area while I was unconscious – it was a hall slightly smaller than the one we'd fought Ahriman in, with two paths branching away to the north and east, and a smaller, narrower passage to the west. As I emerged, I received good wishes from the rest of the party. Fran raised an eyebrow to see me up and about, but I made a discreet gesture towards Balthier and she said nothing.

Balthier was sitting in a corner, playing with the catch of his gun. It looked as though he might once have been cleaning it, but had abandoned the idea and was now absently cocking and un-cocking his weapon, staring into space in an unusually restless temper, the sound reverberating through the empty hall and giving me echoes of my headache. I went to him and put my hand on his shoulder.

"Balthier?" It came out as a question at the last instant because I was suddenly presented with a gun in my face, and in a single horrifying instant I realized that it was loaded. Balthier had been playing with a loaded gun.

I forced myself to remain calm, and to look in his eyes – but the eyes were not those I had come to love and cherish; they seemed to belong to someone else entirely, someone I didn't know.

"Do you really want my life so badly, Balthier?" I asked, pitching my voice so the others would catch no echoes of it – save perhaps Fran.

Balthier's only response was to drop his gun and pull me into a kiss so fierce that my mind reeled. I returned it with no artistry, hungering only for his mouth. His following words, however, were calm as ever, though his eyes blazed across the distance between us.

"Well? Are you through being self-sacrificial now?" he asked, his grip on my shoulders perhaps firmer than was comfortable. I thought that the response I had given Fran would not be well-received, so I merely replied in the affirmative. Balthier seemed satisfied and went back to playing with his gun. Obviously it had just been selfishness to think that my infirmity had caused him to worry – he'd not been himself for several days now.

Vaan, ever-irrepressible, announced that he was going to explore the narrow passage to the west, to see if there was any treasure, and that if anyone else wanted to come, they could. I turned to follow, thinking to make sure he didn't hurt himself, but Balthier didn't move.

"Aren't you coming, Balthier?" I asked softly. "To get the treasure?" I knew something was wrong when even the T-word did not elicit its usual response. Balthier eyed the smaller passage and shook his head. I felt my lips form an 'o' as the pieces fell into place and I put my arms around him.

"Balthier, I do believe that you are claustrophobic," I announced in his ear. He sighed.

"Siyana, please," he said, in that tone that only Balthier could make endearing, and I knew I was right.

"It was all that armour," he said, his mood changed completely, as I sat there, stunned that not only was Balthier volunteering information, but that it meant…

"Yes, I know you heard," Balthier said, in response to my expression. "Eavesdropping is not completely unknown to me. It's an expedient way to acquire information, and I've no qualms about utilizing such methods on occasion. Besides, it saves me the trouble of having to repeat everything again."

I thought of the massive, confining armour of the Judges, and the heavy helmets with only a slit to see through, and couldn't blame Balthier. If I'd had to wear that, day after day, I would probably have developed claustrophobia also. It squeezed my heart that not only was Balthier leading us back to Archades, but that he had known the way led through a cave.

Balthier took my hand. "Don't go making that face. I know what I'm doing. I'm a big boy – I can take care of myself."

And I grinned helplessly, unable to resist leaning in for another kiss.

"Now," Balthier said, looking at me with a critical eye, "are you ready to tell me the truth?"

I firmed my resolve, having known this was coming. "Yes, Balthier. We kissed."

"Kissed? That's all? Who started it?"

"I did. He was being a stick, so I thought I'd loosen him up a little."

"Did he return it?"

"Yes."

"Did it go any further?"

"No. He hugged me, and we fell asleep."

"No wonder. For you, that's practically tame." I could not decipher the tone in his voice after the inquisition.

"That's why I was so blunt. I truly didn't think anything of it. I'm sorry."

"Are you intending to do it again?

"Of course not!" I exclaimed.

"Good," he said, leaning in to embrace me, "then he's the one who will be sorry."

The thought saddened me, but what can I say? I had eyes for no other but Balthier.

In the next chamber, a large dirt ramp reminded us just how far underground we really were. I could see small beads of sweat standing out on Balthier's forehead, but his demeanour was completely natural as he searched for the switch, found the dusty control, and activated it. He stepped onto the lift with Fran, Vaan, and Penelo, since it was not large enough to hold all of us. As the lift started up, Penelo let out a startled noise and grabbed for Vaan. I watched Balthier, and he seemed to expand into the light the further the lift rose. If this were a play, I felt that he would raise his arms to the sky in exultation, but it was not, and he didn't, though he kept his head raised to the sun the whole time.

A moment of waiting, and the lift returned empty. I thought that Ashe would not get on, considering how high it went, and indeed the princess had some trepidation about stepping on, but step she did. As the lift came to life, she gripped the rail tightly, back to us, not looking at anything. The ensuing jolt made me grab the nearest thing for stability, which turned out to be Basch's hand. The lift settled, but Basch did not let go of my hand. As we reached the top and exited the cave at last, I touched the Crystal for luck. Fran looked back once, suspiciously, at the lift, which closed in on itself and died as we departed. Archades waited.

Balthier stretched as we reached the open air. I looked eagerly for my first glimpse of Archades… and was sorely disappointed. Whatever I had been expecting, it had not been… _this_. Narrow, squalid streets meandered everywhere with no clear purpose, reeking of filth and poverty. Vaan summed up the picture with one sentence:

"Smells less like a capital and more like a sewer."

Balthier brushed three days' worth of cave grime from his sleeves – in the broad daylight it was painfully obvious that his travel-stained shirt no longer retained its original colour.

"Even empires have need of sewers," Balthier said. "The runoff from Archades proper pools here: those who lack the papers to live in the city itself. The mighty who have fallen and the fallen who would be mighty. Their eyes never leave Archades."

"I guess it must be a lot nicer than this place," Vaan said, looking around in distaste.

"Oh, to be sure," Balthier replied, and I wondered if I was the only one who could hear the irony dripping from his voice. "Archades reeks of a different filth." He'd allowed some bitterness to creep into his voice – everyone turned to look at him. He brushed off their stares as always, folding his arms and looking with a cynical eye at the towers of the capital that could just be seen above the rag-tag shacks of the slums. "Let's be off!" he said. "We can follow our noses to Draklor." And thus the analogy was expended and we began.

As we wandered the streets of Old Archades, trying to find our way through the criss-crossing alleys, only our numbers and well-armed appearance keeping us from being mugged at the hands of the dozens of misers with hungry, hollow eyes, I was forced to wonder at a country that could do this to its own people, much less those of other nations. It was true – the slums stank, literally as well as figuratively. It was all I could do to keep from holding my nose as we picked our way through the steaming heaps of refuse that dotted the major thoroughfares. The buildings were thrown together with no semblance of order, and the people who sat, completely dejected, reminded me of those in the Lowtown of Rabanastre, those who had lost all hope and smoked weed to get away from reality, their unwashed bodies adding to the general odour of the place. The stench hung in the humid air, and clung to my body much as the mildew of Sochen had, making me much more conscious of my own filth, itchy, and wishing desperately for a bath of some sort. It was no wonder Balthier seemed ashamed to be Archadian. I would be, too.

We found a merchant who was down on his luck in one of the first corners. With the loot I had racked up during this stage of the journey, I bought myself an Embroidered Tippet, a real find, which would allow me to accumulate double the experience without having to increase my fighting.

One thing we learned from the denizens of the slums – knowledge in Archades was gil. And gil was power. We met many a peasant who hadn't the right _knowledge_, that elusive quantity of crucial information that would grant them a life of luxury in the capital. I was astounded how many people wanted to try again, even after being relegated to live in the sewers by their own people – the power Archades held over them was so strong. I gripped Balthier's hand.

"I'm glad…you're not like them," I said softly. He wrinkled his nose, grimacing. "So am I." But his return grip told me he knew what I meant.

At the stairs, we encountered an Imperial duo guarding the entrance into the city. They drew together as we approached, blocking our path.

"Entering the capital?" the one on the left asked us. "You have credentials?"

All of us hesitated – we hadn't expected to be checked so soon. Vaan opted for bravado.

"I have," he said, making quite a show of sounding convincing. But the Imperial wasn't buying. No doubt he heard the same several times a day.

"Hm? Well I don't see any! We can't just throw open our gates to you vulgars, you know. Especially not the lying kind! Away with you!"

Chastened, we made our way back down. Balthier seemed lost in thought, and I thought about how it must feel to have your own city deny you entrance, to lump you with the very worst of your people. Even for one who didn't enjoy being a citizen, that had to be very hard.

So we continued, until a voice brought Balthier, who was walking beside me, up short.

"Well, well, well… There's a sight for sore eyes." A lean, shifty-looking man emerged from the shadows and placed himself in Balthier's path. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you again. Not here."

"Oh, wonderful." Balthier's voice was dry and held more than a hint of sarcasm. "Enter the streetear." Undismayed by his tone, the strange man grinned lopsidedly.

"A pirate would do well to smile. Wouldn't want to sour his reputation." Balthier's grip on my hand tightened painfully as he clenched his fists. There was no love lost between these two – of this I was certain. Of course, I had to give the man credit for recognising Balthier – especially in the state he was in now, in Old Archades, with the company he currently kept.

Vaan voiced the sentiments of the party when he interjected: "You know this guy?"

Balthier sighed, as if to say 'unfortunately'. "An old… friend," he said aloud, but his hesitation left no one in doubt as to his true feelings. "He's a streetear – a peddler of rumour and hearsay, by the name of Jules." I could sense Archades still had a hold on him by the matter-of-fact way in which Balthier said that the man in front of us made a living on buying and selling words. Balthier continued, with no small amount of bitterness in his voice: "He'd bite a gil given him by his own mother, and shave it by half to pay for her funeral." Jules was unabashed.

"Sometimes an ear with tight purse strings's the order of the day. Like when a pirate decides he fancies going _up _in the world." He spoke with a voice thick with the accent of the slums, his teeth never stopping flashing in his crooked smile.

Vaan cut through the banter. "To the city?" he asked. "You know a way?"

Jules repeated what we'd been hearing all along. "In Archades, knowledge is power. And power has a way of opening doors, boy." He posed as if declaiming.

"Now, a foolish man will buy a sack of feathers for his pillow, but a wise man…" he shrugged. "He'll buy the whole stinking chocobo and get his fill of meat into the bargain." I smiled inwardly as I realized why Jules and Balthier hated each other so much – they were both so alike that it was impossible for them to get along. Jules was a rougher, cruder Balthier.

The streetear held out his hand. "So, wise man, how does 1500 gil sound?"

I stared at the exorbitant price, but Balthier shrugged when Vaan glanced back at him. "Pay up," he instructed. Vaan, unsure, did as he was told, and the gil disappeared, secreted away on Jules' person. The ear bit one gil cannily before replacing that, too, in his pocket (one of many, I presumed). He grinned, apparently satisfied.

"Bright boy. You learn fast." He made an expansive (and unnecessary) gesture. "I call this meeting to order. Tell me, boy, heard any rumours in town?" I noted that he addressed Vaan instead of the others who were more obviously the leaders. I also wondered why we were paying him for our own information.

Vaan thought about it. "Actually, I did hear about a man who picked a bag of coins out of a barrel."

_Come on, Vaan!_ I thought. _Can't you come up with anything better than that? _All that running off to explore, and that was all he could come up with? But Jules looked thoughtful.

"Bags in barrels, eh? A boy would do well to bring that morsel to a man named Beasley near here. Tell him what you've heard."

The advice having cost 1500 gil, it was foolish not to act on it, so we went in search of this Beasley. As Jules fell behind us, I wondered if the advice would really be worth the price.

We found Beasley sitting on the ground in a corner near the bridge, and told him what we knew.

"Whaaaat!?" was his response. "Yer tellin' me that ye know the bloke what's taken me coin!? Oh, so it was _him_, was it?" he asked, and turned away from us, muttering. My comment on the wisdom of a man who would leave a bag full of gil in a barrel for anyone to pick upwas saved for another time.

There being nothing else to do, we went back to Jules, who was sitting at his ease on the crates where we had seen him before.

"You told him just as I told you?" he said as we approached. "Good boy!" Jules spoke as if addressing a dog, again ignoring the rest of the party.

"I'm not sure what any of this has to do with going _up _in the world," Vaan replied, catching on. Just now, he realized?

Jules was unperturbed. "Oh? Witness the power of knowledge, m'boy." He lifted his patronizing gaze from Vaan to glance around the corner. "See? It begins."

I turned to look where Jules indicated. A commoner came pelting around the corner, an eager light in his eyes.

"'Ey, 'tis a fight!" he called, surely hoping to curry some favour with the guards. "Beasley's gone wild!" His shouts roused the Imperials at the stairs, who came running past us to restore order.

"Now's our chance!" Vaan said excitedly, quick to take advantage of the situation. "Thanks, Jules." He ran off, the rest of the party following suit, unsure of when our roadblocks would return. I was about to do the same, but Balthier, who still held my hand, didn't move. I noticed Jules noticing at the same time as Balthier, who immediately released my hand and straightened his sleeves.

"Never thought you'd go for such a meagre price," he said. _Meagre?_ I thought in astonishment, wondering how much the streetear was usually paid for words. Jules shrugged eloquently.

"A pirate should know that words are worth gil uncountable," he said, as though reading my thoughts. I thought of all the gil Blayne and I had spent in the taverns of Balfonheim and realized he was right.

"Here's some words for you," Jules said nonchalantly, a sly grin spreading across his face. "The prodigal Bunansa son's come back to the Imperial roost." I blanched. He winked at my expression. "See? Words of much value, these."

Balthier made a dismissive gesture with his hands. "Bah," he said, walking away. It was such a lame come-back for him that I knew he had to be worried. As soon as we were out of Jules' eye- and ear-shot, he took my hand again, dragging me along with him.

"Will he really do it?" I managed, trying to keep up with him. "Will he really sell you out?"

Balthier's face was like a thundercloud. "I knew I was running that risk when I came here," he said, as if to himself. "Though I hadn't counted on encountering that bloody ear so soon." He followed this statement with a thousand deadly curses on Jules' family, his children (if he had or chose to have any), as well as his person, none of which made me feel better about Balthier's prospects of survival in the capital. I realized that Jules was one person Balthier couldn't play. And it scared me half to death.

As we climbed the stairs into the city, however, his mood changed again, and I could no longer read him. He had retreated somewhere I couldn't follow, and his face was a stone wall with shuttered windows. He released my hand.

"We go our separate ways here, Vaan," he told the boy. "I've got some business to attend to." There was a strange cast to his voice, and apparently only Fran could hear how forced it was. "We'll meet again later," Balthier continued, already moving away. As he walked calmly down the nearby flight of stairs into the city, I knew something was wrong. He wasn't even taking Fran with him.

"Huh? Hey -" Vaan protested. Too late. Balthier had already disappeared into the crowds.

My brain was put on hold. Balthier was in obvious pain, and I was damned if I was going to let him face it alone. I took off after him, ignoring the cries of the party.

* * *

**A/N: **Next up - for all those who've wanted to know about Balthier's past...


	18. It's All In the Past

**Disclaimer: **I dare say this disclaimer could have done with a good sand scrub some time ago.

**A/N: **Well, here's the update. I apologize for not posting on Sunday like I always promise, but since it was the long weekend I went up to my cottage without internet connections, and I figured three updates in one week would be a bit too much. Just think of it this way - now you don't have to wait as long for the next one! I'm not going anywhere next Sunday, however, so updates will continue as normal. Without further ado, enjoy chapter 18 - Archades loop!

* * *

I didn't get very far before I realized I was in trouble. I was lost in a strange city and could not see Balthier anywhere. The sounds of noisy, busy crowds of people threw me off track – I caught thousands of snippets from millions of conversations with absolutely no idea what they meant. Archadians, had a marked fondness for perfume, and the cloying, contesting scents of conflicting perfumes clogged my nose. In breaks from this strange sensation, I could smell the goods of street side vendors with an accompanying pang of hunger in my stomach. But I had a mission – I could not afford to be waylaid by the tempting scents of sweetbread. Everywhere I went shop displays screamed for my attention, their brightly-coloured wares beautiful and distracting. And always there was the underlying sensation that I couldn't quite put a finger on, but it was stifling and uncomfortable, and exuded by everyone around me. Bewildered by the twists and turns of the streets and the buildings towering above me, I didn't watch where I was going and bumped into a member of the gentry who was just coming out of a boutique with enough force that I fell on my backside.

"Oi! Watch where you're going, girl!" he yelled. I picked myself up, stammering apologies. He looked at me with distaste.

"Bloody ardents," he spat. "Always rushing about, oblivious to everyone but themselves. This is the last straw."

He advanced on me. I retreated. Every step he took, he gathered more of his friends around him.

"I intend to teach all of you ardents a lesson," the man said, "and it will start with you. Lucky girl."

There were now at least eight noblemen converging on me as I continued to back up. My back hit the wall and I realized I was cornered.

"'Ey, she en't Archadian," said one of them, with a soldier-like bearing. "I seen 'er type out in the provinces. She looks like them night girls they got in Rabanastre."

"A girl of gil, eh?" The man's smile grew. "Let's put that to the test, shall we?" He grabbed my arm. I lashed out, my heart pounding, terrified beyond all knowing that I would be ravaged here, by someone like him, in a place like this. He held both my arms in an iron grip, so I kicked out with my legs, catching one man between his legs. He went down, howling, but the soldier who had identified me stepped up to take his place.

"Feisty little breed, these provincial whores," he said, holding me by the ankle.

"Good. I like 'em hot," said the first man, to a chorus of laughs. Why were the bystanders doing nothing to help me?

"What's the matter, sweet?" Another man held my struggling form by the waist; his S's sending sprays of spittle into my face. "'Tis what you do, en't it? We'll pay when we're done." He forced me onto my back and began fumbling with my skirt. I realized that he was actually going to do it, and my mind went numb. My cries for help brought no-one. During that time I had thought of both Basch and Balthier, but in that moment of truth, when I had time to shout out only one name before this man and his friends violated my most sacred sense of self, the name I chose surprised me. I screwed up my eyes and cried out the name that made me feel safest, the one I wanted most by my side.

"_Balthier!_"

A shot rang out, echoing through the suddenly empty street.

"What's all this commotion?" The voice was commanding, imperious, haughty, even. The group assaulting me began to edge away. One man opted for bravado.

"'Oo the 'ell are you?"

My eyes closed in relief now rather than terror, I didn't see what happened – obviously something was shown to the crowd that made it hushed and anxious.

"It's a sandalwood chop with the mark of the Judges on it!" someone near me whispered.

"I just got off duty, so I can't officially charge you with assault, but my superiors have been notified and a detachment is on its way." A hand entered my field of vision, and as I took it my trembling stopped.

"You all right, Siyana?" Balthier murmured as he helped me to my feet. I clung to his hand and thanked him from the bottom of my heart. He put his arm around me, and the warmth of his body began to thaw some of the cold of fear. Drawing me away from the crowd, he put on his Judge-esque voice again. I noted that the street was noticeably emptier than it had been before.

"I'm taking this young lady to the station so she can press charges. You are to wait here for the detachment and under _no_ circumstances leave." That sentence ensured that everyone would be gone from the spot very shortly. Balthier steered me down the street and around a corner. As soon as we were out of sight of the onlookers, however, his demeanour changed and he began strolling nonchalantly, though he kept his grip around my waist. He brought me into the first café he saw, sat me down, and sent the waiter after rum and water. Then he leaned back and examined me across the table.

"Did they hurt you?" he asked. I shook my head, starting to calm down.

"Where are the rest of the party?" he asked, his voice taking on an edge. "Why aren't you with them?"

"I was following you. I told you before – I would follow you, if you left me. You were suffering, and I wasn't about to let you face it alone."

I don't think that, until that moment, Balthier had fully fathomed the extent of my devotion. He did now, and blinked, surprised. For a fraction of a second, he was at a loss for words. Not for long.

"I think that was the singularly most idiotic thing you have ever done, Siyana," he said at last, his voice sharp. "If I hadn't happened to be passing, if I hadn't kept my chop from the Ministry of Law…" he sighed. "There are so many ifs." He folded his arms. "Did it occur to you that I did not wish for companionship? If I had, I would have taken Fran. That should have been your first clue."

The rum and water arrived, and I took a sip, the drink soothing my nerves. "It was," I told him. "It was my first clue that you _shouldn't _be alone. No one in your position should be alone."

"And what is my position?" Balthier asked wryly. It was a rhetorical question, and I interpreted it as such. I sipped my drink and remained silent. Balthier sighed.

"Well, you're here now, and I've no intention of wasting my time looking for the party to bring you back." He finished his drink in one gulp. "Come on."

I made shift to finish just as speedily and followed him out, the drink sitting uncomfortably in my stomach. Balthier hailed a cab.

The guide jumped out smartly. "An' what be yer pleasure?" he asked. Balthier showed him a piece of wood that was vaguely oval-shaped and smelled faintly of sandalwood. It had an intricate crest stamped on it that I couldn't make out.

Immediately the guide became obsequious, practically falling over himself as he hastened to add: "Yer honour?"

"Tsenoble, if you please," Balthier told the man. Truly, I had not known the extent to which my love could make his voice so haughty. It was certainly a change to see Balthier patronize someone other than myself.

"Of course, of course, no trouble yer honour." The cabbie glanced at me. "And the lady…"

"Is with me," Balthier said firmly.

The guide's face fell a bit, but he gamely replied:

"Certainly, yer honour, that won't be a problem." He opened the door for us, still fawning over Balthier.

"Good. I'm glad we understand each other," Balthier said, guiding me into the cab ahead of him. The interior of the cab was classy, all leather and panelled wood, and had shielded candles for light. The air was slightly perfumed.

I sat in the luxurious cab, Balthier beside me, thinking about the events of the day, and thought that I had to be the luckiest girl in the world.

Balthier was silent for the entire ride, except once to ask me what I thought of the city.

I considered it.

"I think it is very big, but not big enough. I think the buildings are very tall, but not tall enough. The city is lively, but not lively enough. The people are happy, but not happy enough. Archades is just not _enough_. All these people are trying to make the capital their everything, their whole world, and it's just not enough for them. That's why they do so much conquering, I think – they want to make more. Rozarria is the same. But even if these people owned the whole world, even beyond Ivalice, I don't think they'd be satisfied. The _want_ eats them inside, like a canker, and the more they have, the more it grows. The more they grasp, the more it slips through their fingers. I think that this city is fundamentally _wrong_."

Balthier blinked. I realized that I had waxed philosophic and had probably given him a much longer answer than he had ever wanted, and blushed, embarrassed. But Balthier merely said:

"It sounds like you sympathize with them." His voice held no emotion – it reminded me of his tone when we'd first met.

"No. They are Imperials. What they did to my people and my homeland cannot be forgiven." Balthier shifted, but said nothing. "They are like children," I continued. "They call us Dalmascans 'provincial' and 'backward', but we name Raithwall, the greatest ruler who ever lived, as our founder, and are satisfied with the legacy of the Galtean Alliance. Archadians want that – they want to be satisfied with past glory – but they are like children, with no notion of labouring to create, but only of having… and no thought given to the cost, to others, of taking it."

Balthier remained silent. "Of course, that's not the only reason," I amended. "If I stayed here longer I could probably uncover more. But I don't think I really want to."

"And all Archadians are wrong and deserve to die, is that it?" Balthier asked. His voice was still neutral, but now I finally realized what he was getting at.

"Of course not. I know some very good Archadians," here I leaned into his embrace, "and some very bad Dalmascans. Country doesn't automatically determine whether a person is good or bad. And whether or not you were once an Archadian judge makes absolutely no difference to me."

His grip on me tightened. "You speak of what you do not know. You don't know what kind of man is touching you."

"I don't," I agreed cheerfully. "But that's because you won't let me. All I know is that you've saved my life several times over, and that's enough for me."

"Well, when you put it that way," Balthier said, and he kissed me gently, more gently than he had ever kissed me before, and for once, I did not need more. I just sat quietly in his arms, listening to his breathing and the hum of the cab, the events of the day falling into oblivion. Was I good enough for him? No. But progress had been made. If I was no closer to understanding him, at least he understood more about me. If nothing else, this day had accomplished that.

All too soon, the cab slowed to a halt. Balthier sighed, as though steeling himself, and got out, holding out his hand to assist me from the vehicle, looking every inch the true Archadian gentleman, even if his garb did not.

"A pleasure, yer honour," the cabbie said smoothly. "May the glory of your house strike undiminished in the hearts of your enemies."

Only Fran, I think, could have discerned the flicker of pure loathing that crossed Balthier's face at the traditional Archadian gesture.

"And may your knowledge never fade in value," he replied correctly, and the man bowed and jumped back into the cab. I took my first look at Archadian high society as Balthier led me down the street. We entered a tiny elevator (making Balthier slightly uncomfortable), and then I was confronted with the sight of the Grand Arcade.

It was large, and airy, and fancy beyond belief, ornamented almost to the point of being sickening. The same was true of the people: swelled with pride, caring nothing for aught but themselves and their own gil, the frills, ruffles, embroidery, thread of precious metals and brightly dyed colours on their clothes practically eclipsing the clothes themselves, clouds of perfume following them wherever they went. Balthier and I, in our travel-stained garb, stood out like sore thumbs as we proceeded to Highgarden Terrace. The only possible redeeming feature of that place was the garden (as the name suggested); the rare plants and exotic trees flowering everywhere and tended with care.

"Look your fill, Siyana," Balthier said, with more than a hint of bitterness. "The best and the brightest in Archades, the epitome of Archadian society." Ignoring the stares of the scandalized gentry, Balthier took my hand and led me down the immaculate length of the space. I didn't have to ask where we were going. I'd already guessed.

Finally, Balthier stopped before what appeared to be a wall. Like everything in Central, it was highly ornate, with wrought-gold designs entwining across its breadth, forming a stylized Archadian crest. Balthier took out the sandalwood chop and inserted it into a slot so cunningly hidden in the design of the ensanguined sword I would never have seen it. The wall swung inwards, and Balthier moved forward. An attendant stood there, not in the usual attendant's uniform, but in a silk dress with ribbons and frills. She smelled of expensive rose perfume that would have taken years to purchase on a normal attendant's salary. She bowed us past, not saying a word. And that was when I realized I'd entered a different world.

Balthier explained as we went down a long, wide hallway with intricate arches.

"The attendant is only there to heighten the sense of self-importance one gets while coming through that door. It's so bad, some people get highs when they do it. _She_ gets paid well for it, at any rate."

The promenade was softly lit with naphtha lamps set in globes of crystal, and smelled faintly of all the perfumed bodies that had passed through since it was built. Along the walls were hung (highly impressionistic) views of Archades, the smallest one surely costing a fortune, each illuminated by their own little candle smelling of pure beeswax which would have to be changed each day, the candleholders and the frames made of solid gold. Our footsteps were muffled by the wall-to-wall coverage of the thickest, most luxuriant Dorstonian carpets I had ever seen. And in the ceiling…

"Yes, those are real gemstones," Balthier said, following my gaze. "There's no reason for them to be there. There's no reason for _any _of this to be here." With an expansive gesture, he took in the whole hall. "But it is, just because my _honoured_ colleagues have so much gil on their hands they don't know what to do with it."

I looked at the tapestries hanging at intervals on the walls, each with the crest of some upstanding Archadian family, and felt small and very out of place. To think that there were actual gemstones just above my head!

"It makes me sick," Balthier said. He'd stopped walking. "Because I know that down in the Old City, there are children scavenging for bread, and out on Mount Bur-Omisace there are refugees walking barefoot in the snow, and my _esteemed_ colleagues sit up here, surrounded by all _this_, and lift nary a finger."

He ran an irritated hand through his hair. "Those ardents in the lower levels just don't get it. Knowledge… only gets you so far. Everything that they're striving for, hoping for… it's all meaningless, a façade. Sure, the lucky ones may work themselves within inches of their lives and get themselves a single sandalwood chop, make it all the way up to Central, and have their faces seen by the elite, but at the end of the day, they'll just have to go back to their homes, and if they're careless, they'll end up back in Oldtown. But for the _true _elite, it's different. The reason the attendant didn't speak was because there's no need. Simply knowing about the passage and having a chop that can open it is sufficient to grant entry. And none of the families here will ever lose their chops. The noble and most ancient house of Solidor, for example, has entire storerooms full of nothing but sandalwood. Gil means nothing to these people. Sums like your mark, Siyana, any of them, even the children, would have paid without even batting an eye, if they could wrench their heads out of their lives of idle luxury for as long as it took to pay it." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "And yet all they can think about is getting _more_! They, who will never want for aught in their lives, who will die without ever having known hunger pangs, or what it feels like to be cold…" He passed a hand across his darkened eyes. Concerned, I went to put a hand on his arm. He glanced down at me. "Whenever I think that I was almost one of them…"

"But –" I started, and I think both of us were surprised to hear my voice. "I think it's a good thing… that you realize it's wrong. That you sensed that there was something beyond this sheltered life, and that you went and found it. That's the important thing, I think."

A faint half-smile. "I suppose." He sighed. "Let's go, shall we? I want to get back before Vaan does, or I'll never hear the end of it." And he took my hand and escorted me down the remainder of the promenade. But it troubled me. Could it be that after even that long speech, Balthier was still holding things in his heart? Hadn't I always wanted him to open up, to confide in me? Yet when he did so, like an idiot I had no idea of what to say.

A cab sat awaiting us at the end of the hall. If the one we had ridden in before was described as 'classy', this one was even more so. The outside was sleek and black, with nary a clunky, puke-green line in sight. The light blue glossair rings twined together in simple loops across the bottom of the vehicle, and the cab drivers were dressed in suits, not the rag-tag uniforms of the lower town. The guide didn't say a word, didn't even ask for a chop as we approached, just waited patiently for Balthier to give the order.

When he did so, it was in the forced-calm voice I was coming to know quite well.

"Bunansa." Then he got into the cab, pulling me along with him.

The interior was decked out in red and gold, with low couches and settees of plush down covered with velvet. There was a bar off to the side packed with about a year's supply of alcohol, kept cool with what looked like Rabanastre's entire stock of ice magicite (the substance was rationed, being rare in a desert city).

Balthier didn't look at any of it, but sat in silence, his eyes far away. I placed my hand gently on his shoulder to alert him to the drink I'd poured. "Balthier…?"

But Balthier did not want to talk. He smiled in thanks for the drink, and afterwards his face began to look calmer, but he didn't speak. I sat looking out of the gold-rimmed window, sipping a drink of my own, glancing at Balthier every now and again, thinking. Gods, I'd known it would be hard for him to come back to Archades, but if I'd known just how hard I would have tried harder to keep him from coming, or to stop him from doing whatever it was that was so clearly paining him. I wondered if Ashe had known. The princess was many things, but she was not cruel. Why hadn't Fran done anything? I wondered if there was more going on here than met the eye. Why _had _we come here?

Surrounded by so much finery that my mind reeled, I wondered if this was not some bizarre dream. I thought that if sky pirates knew about this clandestine world, they'd be racing to get their hands on it. No doubt Balthier's reasons for keeping it a secret were his own, but if he hated it so much, why not redistribute the wealth?

The cab slowed to a halt, and stood waiting for us to disembark. Balthier let out a long, soft breath.

"Thank-you, Siyana. If you stay in this cab it will take you back down to Central. Jules will be there this time of day – tell him to tell the others I'll meet them there. Stay with him so you don't get lost."

I blinked. Balthier was sending me away, after all that? There were still things he didn't want touched, I supposed. But I didn't think that was right. After everything I'd seen, everything he'd told me, I wasn't about to leave Balthier by himself.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that," I said. He looked at me, surprised. "I mean, it might be rude or intrusive, so you don't want me there, but…" I bit my lip. "I came so I could help you, Balthier."

"And you have," he said. "But this is something I have to do by myself. I've never asked anything of you before, Siyana. Just this."

I hesitated. That last statement wrenched my heart, but it was as if he were saying the words to someone else. The way he was talking now… it wasn't like him.

He started to rise, but I slammed my glass down on the bar, stopping him.

"Gods damn it, Balthier! You're so good at taking things from me, why can't you take what I'm _giving_? You haven't been yourself since we entered Sochen, and if it was all because of claustrophobia, then I'm a virgin! I've been bearing this burden with you the whole time, and the least you can do is let me understand what it is! So, I'm sorry, but I'll have to butt in on your precious privacy!"

Balthier looked at me for such a long time; the heat of my thighs almost burned me.

"Fine," he said at last. "Come on, then." I stood and followed him out of the patient cab, feeling no triumph, only anxiety. I'd gotten myself invited along, now I had to make myself useful. Would Balthier be all right?

* * *

**A/N: **Next up - delving deeper into Balthier's past, lingerie shopping in one of those posh Archadian boutiques, Jules-bashing and more!


	19. What's Ffamran?

**Disclaimer:** A disclaimer? Hardly fit for the leading man.

**A/N: **Here's the next update, on Sunday again. Just so's you know, I'll be going up to my cottage again next weekend, so you'll get your update next monday.  
Many were lauding the return of the cold, aloof Balthier, and, while he, too, is the one that I love, he can't be around all the time, or Siyana would go insane. I prefer to think that while they're travelling, Balthier has these periods of cold and warmth, and Siyana's just choosing to remember the warm parts, except in some of the more important events. Don't worry - Cool Balthier will keep coming back, again and again.  
BTW, kudos to anyone who can figure out what the Latin motto in this chapter means, because I'm going to be mean and not translate it. It's not all that important to anyone but myself and the wonderful people who helped me, and is a little quirk which adds something to the story. Perhaps next chapter I'll let you in on the secret.

* * *

The calm scene through which we walked – a building-top garden made to resemble the country, complete with a dirt path shaded by ancient oak trees, with sweet chirping birds in their branches and the smell of wildflowers – did nothing to ease my fears. What was it even doing here?

Sensing my confusion, Balthier explained.

"My mother was an avid gardener. Cid just wanted to pave over the cab pad and build another workshop, but she had these trees imported from her own house and kept the garden herself. Cid used to say the keepers of the Terrace would be jealous if they ever found out."

His voice seemed normal, but there was that subtle undertone that always appeared when he spoke of his past. I knew enough to suppose that his mother had died, but how I didn't know.

"She was brilliant, you know," Balthier said. "My mother. Everyone said so. Cid said afterwards that if she hadn't died, she would have been the head of Draklor, not him. She was Cid's lab partner at the Akademy, did I tell you? That's how they met each other. She would help out with his lab work. It was an accident in an experiment that killed her – some toxic gases escaped. She didn't tell anyone, but sent all the researchers out of the lab so as not to cause a fuss. Cid didn't hear her, though, and continued on with his experiment, which ignited the gases in the air. My mother threw herself on top of him to protect him from the explosion. Cid survived. My mother didn't."

So that was why he had been so mad at me after the Doom incident! I hadn't known how deeply it had affected him, focussing more on his claustrophobia.

We'd reached a door set in the middle of the charming woodland path. Vines had grown across it, and it looked like no-one had opened it in a while, though even covered with ivy is retained some sense of stolid oaken grandeur. I could just make out the family crest, the motto of which read: _Omnis Scientia Habenda Est, _and bore a hand holding a sextant.

And then Balthier did the most baffling thing of all. He sat down against the nearest tree and closed his eyes.

Bewildered, I remained standing, wondering if this was part of some ritual that he hadn't mentioned. As time dragged on, however, I wondered if he'd fallen asleep.

"Er… Balthier?" I asked, terribly unsure. He opened his eyes and fixed me with a stare.

"I don't have the keys," he said, in a manner-of-fact tone. I blinked.

"Don't have them!? That's… then, why…?" My words tumbled over themselves in my confusion. I couldn't bring myself to the question _'Then what was all this for?'_

Balthier settled himself more comfortably against the tree. "I threw them away," he said. He was certainly more relaxed now, I noted with relief. Everything he'd been doing had been to screw himself up to this point. I wondered how much worse his mood would have been were he actually intending to go inside his house.

"Threw them away?" I came to sit beside him, but he'd closed his eyes again. He nodded.

"My first outing as 'Balthier'. I went to Balfonheim in the _Strahl_ and tossed them out over the ocean. A fitting symbol of my resolve that I would never come back, I thought. And so it was, if I hadn't been fool enough to believe it. It's… so pathetic. I told myself I was through with this, but when it came right down to it, I'm neither one nor the other. I kept my Judge's chop; I used the power I'd sworn myself off long ago. There's no chance I want back in the cage, but I'm still clinging to the bars looking in. And I don't hesitate to make use of the perks. It's truly despicable." He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes still closed. I was filled with an overwhelming desire to be closer to him and I snuggled nearer to put my head on his chest.

"You used that power to save me," I said softly. "I don't think that's despicable. I, for one, am very glad that you did not throw away that chop."

Balthier did not respond, but put his hand on my head gently.

How long we sat there, long or short, I cannot say. To this day, I am uncertain whether he or I or both dozed off, but this I do know: even on the heels of such pain and turmoil, I count the memory of that time under the trees as one of the most blissful and peaceful of my life, and it stands alone like a gem even now. I believe that, somewhere, Balthier's mother smiled upon her son, as the sounds of the city below faded away.

All too soon, Balthier took a deep breath, like one emerging from a deep, dark dive, and smiled down at me, and for once the smile was unguarded and true. I wanted to capture that moment and clutch it to me forever, but I must be contented with memory.

"Thank-you, Siyana," Balthier said, and his voice was sincere. "We should be getting back. No doubt Vaan's getting annoying."

I grinned and nodded my agreement, and Balthier rose to his feet. I started to giggle, which quickly turned into a full-size laugh. And it kept going.

Balthier looked down, half-amused. "What is it?" he asked. I shook my head. His statement, hadn't, in truth, been so funny, but I couldn't stop my laughter. It was a _release_. He'd said 'we'! I could never remember him having said that before.

Balthier waited patiently for me to finish. I wiped tears of mirth from my eyes, panting slightly.

"I'm sorry," I said, in between breaths. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's all right," Balthier said, helping me up from where I'd slumped back down in my laughter. "It's probably the first time this garden has heard laughter in a long time." He searched my face, his dark eyes more peaceful than I'd seen them in a long while. "I told you a lot of dark, heavy things," he said. I squeezed his hand.

"That's what I came for. I don't mind." We began to walk as one back to the landing pad.

It didn't take long for Balthier to find a cab and hail it. The guide flinched a little when Balthier ordered him back to Tsenoble without stopping by the Grand Arcade, but he did as he was told. The ride was spent in silence, but a different kind of silence than the one on the way up; much less stifling, more companionable.

Almost as soon as we'd stepped out, the cab took off, as though fearing to be contaminated by the common air. Indeed, the first thing that assaulted us was the noise: hawkers vending their wares, eager criers rushing about, gentry gossiping… I think even Balthier winced at the shock.

The next – was Jules. Balthier definitely winced now.

"Your 'business' go well, Master Balthier?" the ear asked, with a sly glance at me. Balthier did not even deign to respond.

"What happened to Vaan and the others?" he demanded sharply. "Surely they've finished exploring by now? They haven't gotten into trouble, have they?"

Jules shook his head. "No need to worry, Master Balthier, the ladies have not yet finished shopping, and the armaments establishment is providing a most ample deterrent for the gentlemen."

I glanced at Balthier. Obviously we hadn't been gone as long as we thought we had. Balthier frowned.

"They'd better not blow all our funds," he muttered darkly. "The merchants in these boutiques can strip you of every gil you've got."

"Never fear," Jules hastened to reassure us. "The ladies are merely _browsing_, and the gentlemen have already all that they need and are deep in discussion over the relative merits of various weapons. Your gil is safe."

"They haven't gotten any gun upgrades in since I was here last, have they?" Balthier asked.

"For an Aldebaran?" Jules thought aloud, without even looking at Balthier's gun, and I was impressed that he had noticed it from before. "Nay, Master Balthier, you'd have to go to Balfonheim Port for that."

"Very well, then. Would you go to the others and inform them I'm waiting here?" Balthier asked, clearly eager to get rid of Jules. "You won't expect payment for that, will you?"

Jules shook his head. "Of course not, Master Balthier, where's a brief errand between old friends? I've naught else to do, at any rate – the streets are dry today… especially after the knowledge _I_'ve gained."

Balthier sighed and opened one of the pouches he kept at his sides.

"Fine. Here, give these to them, will you? So they can get up here."

Jules took the chops with an oily bow – nine of them, I now saw, smelling not of sandalwood, but pine.

"Sure thing, Master Balthier. But your companions are quite engrossed – it may take a while."

"That's not a problem," Balthier told him. "Get going, Jules, I know you've got enough chops yourself to take the cab, so don't go looking for more."

Jules grinned. "I'd never dream of it, Master Balthier." And, true to this word, at least, he took the next cab down.

After a recuperative silence, I turned to Balthier.

"While we're waiting, let's do something fun," I suggested. Balthier blinked.

"Such as?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, but for myself, selfishly, I've wanted to go into one of the famed Archadian boutiques for a while now. Do you know of a good one?"

To my surprise, a smirk spread across Balthier's face. "Well, there is this _one _place I know… Eleonor's. Coincidentally, it's not far from here."

"Let's go there, then," I said. It didn't matter what kind of store it was, to me, though I had my suspicions, based on Balthier's expression. These were confirmed when I saw the display in the shop window. I didn't know whether to be elated or unsure, and ended up being both at the same time. Balthier was taking me shopping… for _lingerie?_

We entered the tiny boutique, and a bell rang somewhere in the back. No-one was forthcoming right away, however, and I glanced around at the wares packed in choc-a-bloc on every side, even hanging from the ceiling – lace and silk and sheer fabrics, clingy and translucent (and even some leather) everywhere. It was a girl of gil's dream, and for a moment I was unsettled by the thought.

"You don't mind?" Balthier asked. I shook my head. "Everything looks lovely," I replied.

"I'm glad you think so, dear," a voice said. From the midst of all the ribbons and frills came who I assumed to be the proprietor. "And… oh goodness. That couldn't be… Master Ffamran?"

I blinked. _Ffamran_? _That _wasn't a name I'd heard before. As the woman emerged, I found myself looking at the plainest woman I'd ever seen.

Before I be thought rude, let me hasten to add that she would be the first to describe herself that way. She was fully aware that her short, mousy-brown hair and facial features were completely unremarkable. But even with all that, as soon as I saw Eleonor Delessa, I could sense a kindred spirit.

"My, this certainly is unexpected. To what do I owe the pleasure, Master Ffamran?" There was that name again! Balthier gave her a warning glance, and realization crossed her face.

"Ah, of course. My apologies, 'Balthier'. What can I do for you?"

"We're just in to look, Eleonor. Might you have anything for this young lady?" He winked at the woman. It was obvious that the two had some history together, but it would be prying to ask.

Eleonor turned her smile to me. "Certainly, my dear. Now, you realize, I must ask: you wouldn't happen to have any _delicate sensibilities, _would you?"

Balthier let out a snigger which he hastily turned into a hacking cough. I shot him a look before smiling at the woman.

"Thank-you for asking, ma'am, but it won't be a problem. I've already made my mark, you see."

Balthier broke off laughing, but Eleonor's eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, you poor girl. And so young!"

"It only took two years," I said consolingly, knowing I had been right. "Thanks mostly to Balthier." I took his arm, leaning my head on his shoulder.

Eleonor looked at him. "Well, I didn't think it was possible, Balthier, but you've gone up in my esteem!" I giggled. Balthier pried me gently from his arm. "Eleonor, please." The woman chuckled. "You may think you've changed, Balthier, but you haven't. Not really." She turned to me again.

"Well, since that's all settled… what do you like, dear? What is your preference?"

I thought about it. For all that I'd been a girl of gil, all that I'd ever worn was that translucent silk robe. I'd counted on my skills, not my clothing, to arouse a patron. But it meant that I was most comfortable in silk, and I said so.

"Well then, you'd be in this section over here, dear," Eleonor said, taking my hand and beginning to lead me over. "Will you be joining us, Balthier?"

He shrugged. "I think I'll just take a look around." He looked straight into my eyes. "Surprise me, Siyana." Then he meandered off to another part of the store.

Eleonor finished escorting me to the silk section and began questing through racks, _tsk_-ing. "That Balthier. But you know he means well, don't you, dear?"

I watched him perusing the display case at the far end and smiled.

"Yes. He's really very…" I couldn't think of what to say. Eleonor looked up at the softness in my tone.

"Ooh, watch it, dear. He's trouble. Don't go forming attachments!"

Her statement was so funny that I had trouble breathing for a few moments. _It's too late for that,_ I thought, with a tiny hint of bitterness. _Far, far too late._

Eleonor sighed. "Well, I know for a fact that his favourite colour is red, so perhaps we should start there? Not to mention that, with your colouring, red silk would look splendid on you." She began taking out items for me to try. I thought of Ashe's tiny red skirt, even shorter than mine, a former girl of gil, and the way Balthier's gaze lingered on it. I thought of how long I had loved him, travelled with him, and I hadn't even known his favourite colour until a stranger told me. I thought of the time we'd spent in the Bunansa garden. Where was the answer?

"Are you all right, dear? You look rather ill." Eleonor's worried voice cut through my thoughts. I shook my head to clear it.

"Everything's fine," I said. "Now, what were you saying?"

"You should, of course, get something low enough in the back so it shows your mark."

I blinked. My mark. In my mind's eye, I saw a note with firm, graceful script. _Put in more Red._ And I smiled.

"Of course."

Eleonor held out some articles to me.

"These'll do for starters. Try them on behind the curtain."

I did, luxuriating in the fell of the fine fabric on my skin. But the first wasn't tight enough in the breast, the second was too long, the third was _too _tight – it wouldn't have come off easily. As the pile of things I'd tried grew higher and higher, I wondered if we'd ever find one that was just right.

"Here, try this one, dear," Eleonor said. It was the same thing she'd been saying for the past half hour, and I took the article with no small amount of doubts, but as I touched it, I knew that this was something special. The red matched exactly the shade of the Galbanas on my back – though how this was possible I did not know. It scooped low enough in the back so that my mark would plainly be seen, with criss-crossing ribbons across the upper back. The straps were made of patterned lace, and across the breasts the silk gave way to lace, and the skin beneath was shown. The hem just barely skimmed my thighs, and the most perfect thing of all… it came off with a touch. I turned to Eleonor, who had a light in her eyes. "I think we've found it." The lady merely nodded. "Do you want to show Balthier?" I thought about it.

"No," I shook my head. "I don't want him to see it until I can wear it for him. I'll surprise him." Eleonor smiled. "All right. You get into your clothes, and I'll go tell Balthier how much it costs."

I grabbed her arm. "What? I couldn't possibly expect him to pay for it! He's spent so much gil on me already…"

Eleonor cut me off. "And what sort of gentleman would he be if he took a woman shopping at a boutique and expected her to pay for her own lingerie? Like it or not, dear, when he brought you into my shop it was with the intention of spending gil." She took the article in a small bag and went to meet Balthier. When I emerged, Balthier fixed me with a long, steady look.

"I've paid for it, but I haven't seen it," he said, "on the condition that you wear it for me as soon as the opportunity presents itself." I grinned and acquiesced. It wouldn't be a problem, I was sure.

Eleonor handed me the bag, and I looked at it in surprise. It looked nothing like how I imagined a bag from a lingerie store would look – it was plain and brown and could have been from a food merchant's stall.

"Why so surprised, dear?" Not all of my customers wish their purchases to be widely known," Eleonor explained. "Yourselves, for instance. I'm sure Balthier would not want everyone to know where he's been." Balthier folded his arms. I supposed it made sense.

"I'll go outside to wait for the others," Balthier said. "Many thanks, Eleonor."

"It was good to see you again, Balthier. May the…" she cut herself off. "Ah. You wouldn't…" She smiled. "Good-bye."

Balthier gave her a laconic salute and left the shop. I turned to follow, but Eleonor stopped me.

"A moment, dear, if you please." I looked back at her.

"I have a mark, too," the woman told me. "There's a House in the city. Daisies. Plain, just like myself. So plain, in fact, that if it hadn't been for the lingerie I wore, my life as a prostitute would never have been successful. That's why, when I made my mark, I saved up to open this shop. This is what makes me feel beautiful. If I never sleep with another man in my life, I'll die happy."

I was confused. "Why are you telling me this?"

Eleonor sighed.

"Because I want you to understand – you don't need a man to make you happy. You're so young, and you've already been through so much. I just don't want you to get hurt. Balthier's kindness is the exception, and not the rule."

I took her hand. "I know. Thank-you for worrying about me, Eleonor. But Balthier made my mark. Were it not for him, I'd still be pleasuring Imperials – Archadians, I beg your pardon – back in Rabanastre, sinking lower and lower into a pit of despair and self-loathing. Anything is better than that. I owe Balthier a great debt that must be paid, someday. And it's far too late for me not to fall in love. I'll be all right. It's true, sometimes I do get lonely and sad and hurt, but the way I see it, being hurt by Balthier is better than not having him at all."

Eleonor smiled and squeezed my hand. "All right, dear. Best of luck to you." She suddenly got a look as if she had just thought of something.

"Oh, I've just remembered. Balthier has a particular _fondness_ for leather." She emphasized the word so I'd no doubt of what she meant. I thought of Fran, slender in her monolithic black armour. "So I'll throw in this leather collar, free of charge," Eleonor said, pulling me out of my thoughts as she slipped the choker in the bag. "Just be careful, is all. Come see me again, if you can manage it."

"I will. Thank-you, Eleonor, for everything. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, dear." The woman waved me from her shop.

When I emerged onto the street, Vaan and company were just arriving.

"Ah, so pleased you could join me," Balthier said to the boy, restraining himself to only a hint of irony. "Jules had a morsel for us – a light airship used by Draklor researchers is just up ahead." I supposed Balthier had seen the ear while I was speaking to Eleonor. I noted that, not only was Balthier's mask securely back in place, but he was completely ignoring my presence. "We'll take that and go in through the service entrance," he continued. "Let's make haste, shall we?"

We set off. Balthier, as the one most familiar with the streets of Archades, went first, and Ashe soon engaged him in conversation. Basch gave me a look that I couldn't quite decipher; seeming to be two parts vague anxiety, one part confusion, and several parts something else. He didn't speak, however, and when he noticed me noticing, he quickly looked away, leaving me wondering if I'd done something wrong.

Fran's gaze seemed curious. "He took you along with him?" she asked. I nodded.

"He didn't want to, but he didn't want to leave me alone, either."

Fran smiled. "No… he must have wanted you with him. Unsafe streets or no, had Balthier wished, he would have left you without a second thought. Balthier's gentlemanliness only extends so far." I smiled, thinking back to how Eleonor had just told me as much.

"Ah, but that would be an unfit action for the leading man, would it not?" I joked. Truly, I perceived how close it had come. But Balthier had seemed glad, in the end, to have me along.

Fran chuckled. "I suppose not."

I looked at her frankly. "Do you have any idea of what he means by it, Fran?"

The viera shrugged eloquently. "None whatsoever. He's been saying it ever since I met him. I am used to it, now."

Curiosity crept into my voice. "How did you meet him?"

She smiled enigmatically. "Now, that tale is long, and would take more time than we have in the telling."

"Certainly took your time getting here, didn't you," Balthier was saying to Ashe. "Off seeing the sights, perhaps?" His voice was teasing and light.

"Not likely," Vaan replied, annoyed. "Do you know how long it took us to get the chops to come up here?"

"What's that?" Balthier snapped. I frowned, and shot a look at Fran, who wordlessly confirmed the statement, then at Balthier, who was looking similarly at me. "But I _gave _Jules some chops…"

"Jules!" Vaan exclaimed, furious.

"_Tsk tsk_." As though summoned by the frustrated cry, the streetear appeared, shaking his head in apparent disappointment. "A squad of Imperials has been sent to Draklor. You'll find the service entrance a rather difficult proposition, I'm afraid." As though aware of the intense hatred now borne him by the rest of the party, Jules stopped a few feet short of us. Balthier walked towards him, a deadly threat in each of his steps, though his voice remained light, even cordial, but crisp as fresh-folded parchment.

"Your doing, no doubt." He adjusted his sleeves, not looking at Jules. "You knew how the Ministry of Law would move, so you had Vaan out collecting chops until the Judges could reinforce Draklor. Of course…" Balthier stood with his hands on his hips. "Tell me," here he fixed Jules with a laconic look more dangerous than a sleeping Wyrm, "how much did the Ministry pay for word of the prodigal son?"

I raised both hands to my mouth in horror. Was what Balthier said true? Had Jules really sold him out? Were the soldiers around the laboratory there to capture him? Beside me, Fran's form went rigid with anger, and I hoped Jules knew enough to be afraid. If he'd gotten this much of a rise out of a viera, he'd better know how to run.

"The Ministry?" The ear waved both hands, as though to brush the thought from the air. "Oh, Judges make poor customers, my friend." I saw Balthier bristle slightly at the title of 'friend'. "Too many rules, too many laws." He crossed his arms. The backs of both men were to us, now, as though they'd forgotten us entirely. I had to strain to make out what they were saying, and Fran pricked up her ears.

"Perhaps you didn't know, Master Balthier, that Draklor is a toy box these days, filled with your lord father's conceits… All developed without the Senate's knowledge, of course. Why, not even the Emperor knew the full extent of Cid's operations." Here Jules nudged Balthier, who shifted away. "Now, here's the catch: since Vayne had himself declared dictator, nary a peep has come out of that laboratory." He chuckled. "I know people who would sell their own mum for the merest scrap of information about the goings-on inside Draklor." It seemed Jules was leading up to something, though what, I was not quite sure.

Balthier's voice was mock-pensive. "People like… Rozarrian sympathizers worried about the Empire's weapons programs, and anyone else who might be opposed to House Solidor's hegemony." He sighed. "So, we create a disturbance, and you get your windfall of dirt on Draklor." I could just see Balthier's disgusted face, and Jules' ready grin.

"And in exchange for your service, I've spoken to a cabbie. When he asks you where you want to go, tell him: 'You know where to go'." He clapped Balthier on the shoulder. "Simple, no?"

Balthier's voice dripped sarcasm. "Ah, a deal, brokered in true Archades fashion." He spread his arms wide. "Why, it's just like old times, Jules." He began to walk back to us, and his voice took on a slightly sinister cast. "Brings a tear to my eye." Fran and I both immediately tried to look as though we hadn't been listening. As the party began to walk away, Jules called out:

"Good to be back, eh? My regards to your lord father, Master Ffamran… er, rather, Master 'Balthier'." Balthier, who was walking beside me, stiffened. "Anon, anon," Jules cried, waving. I wondered if that last meant more than it said.

Balthier swore. "_That _was on purpose," he muttered. "Tell it to the whole city, why don't you?"

"Ffamran?" I asked, determined to get an answer. Balthier glared at me. "Is that your real name?"

He grunted, by which I supposed he meant that it was. I let out a long breath. "What's Ffamran?" I said quietly. "It is not hand, nor foot, nor any other part belonging to a man. What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Balthier was looking at me in astonishment. "I believe I shall call you Ffamran," I continued. "Balthier is the name of a character in a play. Ffamran is the name of the man that I love."

Balthier blinked, then unfolded his arms. "Just don't do it in front of the others." Not the answer I had hoped for my confession of love, but I supposed he'd accepted it, and that was something. I smiled.

"Very well, Balthier. Only when we're alone."

We reached the cab, Vaan taking great delight in leaning in close to the cabbie and intoning in a low, significant voice: "You know where to go."

The cabbie played along, grinning and winking knowingly. "So you want to go _there_, do you? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Vaan murmured, and the cabbie threw the doors wide. We all piled inside, Balthier sitting a little apart – or as much as possible in the crowded cabin. As soon as the initial lurch of takeoff had ended, Vaan spoke up.

"So this Jules… Is he some old friend of yours, Balthier?" the boy asked. "You two seemed… close." Obviously he hadn't heard the actual words of the conversation.

Balthier stretched in the confined space. Without realizing it, I had grown accustomed to the luxury of the other two cabs – the lack of windows and grey upholstery disappointed me.

"Close enough for fisticuffs," Balthier replied. The irony in his tone could be cut with a knife. "Driver! Faster, if you please. I would be loathe to spend any of the violence of my present mood on my companions."

"S-Sir?" the unfortunate driver stammered, clearly terrified. "Yes, sir!"

Everyone very wisely kept silent after that.

* * *

**A/N:** Next up: confronting Cid! As well as... further complications! Yes, there are still more tribulations to come in this star-crossed romance!


	20. Draklor Laboratory

**Disclaimer: **Only you could get a disclaimer in a town this small...

**A/N: **I had a great time at my cottage, and here is the next chapter. As I said, I will provide a translation of the Latin motto from the last installment: All knowledge is worth having (or literally, all knowledge is to be possessed). Kudos to the two friends of mine who know Latin for helping me with the translation. If any of my readers have read the Kushiel's Legacy series, the reference will be immediately obvious, but for those who haven't, I would suggest that you go read it to find out. I thought it would be fitting for the crest of a family whose head started a war to discover the true nature of nethicite out of what was mostly curiosity. I wanted to do a good job of the Cid battle, but I'm not sure if everything I felt when I watched the cutscenes translated well into writing. We'll just have to see. Without further ado, please enjoy chapter 20!

* * *

The laboratory was actually the nicest-looking building I had seen so far in Archades. It was also the largest (I hadn't seen the tower of the Senate, except from afar from Highgarden Terrace). As we approached, it rose up at us, seeming to expand the closer we came. I couldn't find any words to describe it: the building seemed puffed up with its own importance, and expressed its desire to show off when we came near. Built entirely out of warm red Archadian stone, the place resembled nothing so much as a family-run factory, the kind you would find in a country hometown, but on a grander scale. This, as it turned out, was exactly what it was.

As soon as we arrived at Draklor, Balthier took control. "This way," he called to the rest of us, who were just getting out. "Come on!" We took the shaded serviceway and entered the laboratory.

The interior of the lab looked less like a place of science and more like a fancy hotel. It was floored with marble and panelled with dark mahogany, against which glowing lights of red and blue mingled softly. What I noticed immediately was the absence of smell – not the rotten, bruised odour of the lower city, nor the perfumed clouds of Central – nothing. In only that respect, I supposed, it was like a laboratory. We paused at the top of some steps. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Something wasn't right.

Basch noticed it, too. "It's too quiet."

"Passing strange," Balthier replied. "There are _supposed _to be guards here."

Vaan sniffed. "Maybe we're just lucky, huh?"

Balthier shot him a look. "Maybe _you're _just optimistic."

"Something may be afoot," Basch advised. "We proceed with caution."

"No _time _for caution," Balthier retorted, already moving. "Step to it! Cid's chambers are on the top level." I noted that Balthier never referred to Cid as his father. I also noted, though made little of it, that Ashe hesitated, and passed off her anxiety to the task ahead.

We were on the 66th floor. Balthier, who was the most familiar with the way, led us west and then north, working our way through the corridors. The silence soon pervaded the party, and no-one spoke as we moved towards the lift. As we turned the corner, however, a different kind of hush fell on us – shocked and fearful. Mangled bodies of Imperial soldiers lay strewn across our path. Basch wrinkled his nose.

"Despicable," he muttered, and I couldn't tell if it was a comment on those who had done this, or upon the soldiers' failure. Balthier, apparently unfazed, forged ahead, Fran right behind him. In an odd turnaround, Ashe seemed to be going out of her way to remain close to Balthier, whereas before she would have gone out of her way to avoid him. I supposed it was because she was still the leader of this expedition, and wanted to be kept in the loop. Vaan and Penelo, clinging together, stayed firmly in the middle, and Basch was our keen-eyed rearguard. I am ashamed to say that I, also, was in the middle with the children. Everything about the place frightened me: the ornate designs on the walls (perhaps the epitome of Archadian decorative architecture), the dark marble floor that seemed ready to suck out my blood at any moment, the silence, and the deep brooding _presence _that I could never quite put my finger on, but was always there.

As we reached the elevator lobby, however, and Imperials streamed out of the lift, Vaan and Penelo were the first at them, even though Balthier had been ahead. As the battle raged, I watched Balthier fiddling with the controls for the lift. What memories had to be swirling through his mind! This place had been his playground, his childhood home. Now he returned to kill his father. What had he been thinking, while in that garden, surrounded by his mother's handiwork? '_Sorry, mum, but dad's going to have to go_'?

The lift arrived, as Basch dealt the final Imperial a brutal blow to the head, and the party piled in. I found myself pressed up against Basch, against the warm muscles of his powerful chest, and hoped beyond hope he could not feel how my body responded.

The short ride seemed to take an eternity, and then we arrived at the 67th floor. No sooner had we stepped out of the lift and turned a corner than Imperials ambushed us from behind. Basch turned with a shout, his axe in his hand before I'd seen him draw it, and he dealt the leader a critical hit before I could turn. Fran busied herself slinging Dispel at the soldiers, most of whom had Protect or Shell or both upon them. Balthier stood back, shooting and reloading faster than he'd ever done before – he had cast Haste on himself, eager for the battle to be over. I kept myself to Cure spells, refreshing the party when they were overborne. At one point, I had to toss Vaan a Phoenix Down – the overeager boy had got himself in the middle of the soldiers.

Soon after that, the battle was over. Balthier moved on without another word and the rest of us, exchanging glances, followed.

Down a long hallway, we came to a heavily-carved door marked C.D.B. An echo from the Phon Coast came back to me: '_Cidolphus Demen Bunansa. Draklor Laboratory's very own Doctor Cid._' So this was his office?

Balthier pushed open the door, as he'd no doubt done so often in his childhood, calling '_Father?_' Did Balthier almost do so now? Would we find his father here?

The room was empty, but completely ransacked. Papers and pieces of furniture lay haphazardly where they'd been overturned, tables and experiments were carelessly strewn about. It looked as though someone had searched the office in a hurry.

"He's had visitors," Fran intoned. "Ones lacking manners, by the look of it."

"Someone after the nethicite?" Vaan asked. Basch knelt to examine some papers. Balthier entered last, having hesitated at the door, moving with purpose. He walked up to his father's desk, standing at such a specific angle that demonstrated to me that he had done this countless times before. Cid's desk was surprisingly untouched, compared to the rest of the room: a rack of test tubes and an antique coffee pot from Dorstonis, as well as an old phonograph sat upright upon it. The pot was an oddity – I fancied Balthier coming in to speak to Cid and finding him resting from his work, legs propped up on one of the desk drawers, pouring himself a cup of coffee, the music from the phonograph wafting through the room. The scene was so touching and domestic that I found myself almost pained that we were coming here to destroy a man I didn't know. When Balthier spoke, it was as if to himself.

"The Jagd Difohr, was it? Six years, and ever since you got back, this… What madness found you there?"

I didn't pretend to know what was going on in the deep recesses of his heart, but it was clear that Balthier's ordeal was not over yet. Not by a long shot. I hoped that the answers to his questions did not cause him more pain.

There came a flurry of activity from the next floor.

"Up! Above us!" Another voice joined the first. "Drop bulkheads five and eight. Be to it!" Perhaps the guards were having more success than we had originally thought.

"They've found us!" Vaan exclaimed anxiously.

"His earlier visitors, more like," Fran reassured the boy. "We should lie low for now."

"No, we'll use their confusion." Back from whatever paths he'd strayed, Balthier held in one hand a map and what looked like an access card. "We need to find Cid. Now."

His mask had slipped a bit. Fran stood quietly, patiently, forgivingly, watching him lead the way. I came up to her as we took up the rear.

"Why are we looking for Dr. Cid? What's nethicite?"

Fran looked down at me. "Ah. I had forgotten. You were not privy to our earlier conversations." While walking down the corridor, the viera filled me in on the discoveries they had made concerning nethicite, its forms, and the sway it had over current politics. When she'd finished, I understood why it was so important that Ashe either destroy the Stone in Cid's possession… or take it for herself, and why that was such a difficult decision to make, considering Dalmasca's precarious position.

While we were talking, the others had entered the first room on the right, which contained a Crystal. Fran and I stepped in to use it, while Vaan spoke to one of the researchers there. For an instant, fear seized me – wouldn't the man raise the alarm? But he didn't, merely informing us that the red and blue doors were in fact bulkheads, controlled by switches. When the red doors were open, the blue doors would be closed and vice versa.

We left the room and Balthier headed next door, to a room marked 6703 East. In the corner of the room was a large console with readouts lending an eerie blue tinge to the room. I reflected upon how lucky we were to have Balthier with us, because the commands on the panel were incomprehensible to anyone else, even Fran, whose mechanical acumen was legendary. It took a few minutes, because Balthier's memory was rusty, but soon enough a _click _was heard, and the lights changed from cool blue to an angry red, which bounced off the walls like an alarm that we were intruders.

"There, that should do it," Balthier said, and we exited.

The corridors outside, too, had changed colour, due to panelling set along the walls that showed what bulkheads were closed. We followed the hallway back to the lift, but we hadn't gone far before we were attacked by a group of soldiers. They came from the elevator, and we hardly had time to get our weapons up before they were upon us. We had little time to silence them before they raised the alarm, so the whole party sprang into action. We had left our packs back in Archades, in a room we'd rented for the purpose, so that all of us could fight unencumbered. I managed to get in some good hits with my Zephyr Pole, using it to get in under the armour of the soldiers and cause massive damage. I was now a level 26 – not nearly so powerful as the others, who were level 38's, but a long shot better than what I had been. In the middle of the melee, I fought through Swordsmen and Hoplite to get to the lift. A sword descended upon me from nowhere; I blocked it with my pole, but then another Hoplite took advantage of my lax guard and slashed at my unprotected side. I felt a burn of pain, but I'd picked up a few tricks while travelling: twirling my pole, I deflected the first Imperial's sword to the side, jabbed behind me to slam the butt into the neck of the hoplite, and then uppercut the swordsman, spinning to lend power to my swing. The hoplite fell back, stunned, and was finished off by Basch's hungry Francisca; the swordsman collapsed, dead.

I felt suddenly refreshed, and the pain in my side eased, but in an annoyed sort of way – I turned to see Balthier, who had cast Cure. All of his magicks felt thus: abrupt and impatient, doing what they were supposed to do without any of the warm caress of Fran's or the sweetness of Penelo's. It was clear that Balthier did not like casting, and it came out in his spells.

We squeezed into the lift again, but this ride was not nearly as pleasant as the last because I was pressed into a corner next to Vaan.

We arrived in the north lift lobby of the 68th floor. Balthier gave us a quick debrief as we ran.

"Our goal is to reach the south lift on this floor. It will require the use of a few bulkhead switches. We cut down anyone in our path!"

With those dire words, we continued east and entered a door marked 6803. Balthier again activated the controls, and the room switched from red to blue, throwing cool light across the room. We exited and turned north, the hallways changed from their warm red to something lifeless and cold. We made two lefts; after the first we were met by two Judges and some soldiers. We sprang into action, but one of the swordsmen cast something called Water Spout, which hurt like hell and set us knee-deep in water. Fran cast Curaga and we all felt better, decimating the man before he could do it again, but then the next one did it, and the next, so that we were ragged in no time. And there were still the judges to contend with.

Penelo, blood and water streaming down her determined face, kept up a steady stream of Cura, while Fran began to intone the Shell spell for each of our three fighters. Ashe wailed away with her Claymore, with Basch for support, while I comforted a dazed Vaan, who'd been struck with Tri-attack and Water Spout at once after coming off the wrong end of a battle with one of the judges. _One day, this boy's compulsiveness is going to be the death of him,_ I thought as I chanted healing spells. Balthier, a fire in his eyes, emptied round after round into the judges – no surprises there.

The party took an instant to catch its collective breath after Balthier felled the second judge at last. Penelo would have set about continuing to cure the rest of us, but was forcibly made to take a break by Ashe, in an interesting role reversal; the young girl's determined look faltered and she collapsed into a heap, the princess murmuring spells and soothing words. This time, instead of Ashe, it was Balthier whose almost maniac drive kept the break short, and then we were off again.

We reached 6804 West, and Balthier found (after much muttering and swearing), that the controls had been locked and he couldn't access them. Fran pushed him aside, and within moments had hacked into the system and activated the controls, having watched and learned from the previous two episodes. Ashe took Balthier aside and whispered to him, drawing him close and stroking his arm. Of a surety, he needed to calm down, or he would get us all killed, but the tenderness between them seemed a prelude to something else, and I, who had so often been on the receiving end of such a caress, felt the bottom drop out of my insides.

The lab was back in its muted, warm reds, but I felt anything but. The empty blue would have suited my mood better as we fought our way to the southwest corner of the floor. It seemed like my actions were on automatic as I ran, cured, and attacked. Try as I might to wrench my mind to the present, all I could see was Ashe, caressing the arm that I had taken just that afternoon in gratitude and love; and Balthier's eyes, the eyes that I so dearly loved, and that I had been unable to reach all this time growing calmer as he watched her. Gods knew Balthier had flirted before, and I had been willing to forgive him, because that was who he was. But never had he accepted (nay, exchanged!) such… such _tenderness_ from another Hume (Fran didn't count, being his partner, and a viera).

So were my thoughts occupied as we entered 6811 West at last. It was the work of a moment to once again switch the bulkheads from blue to red, and now that the building matched my mood, I found myself sinking deeper into the pit of despondence that I had dug for myself. I trailed behind as we took two lefts and headed north back up the corridor, then around the first right to the elevator lobby.

Thus it was that I was the last into the lift and the first out. After me came Vaan, then Balthier, then Basch. I took my first glimpse of floor 70 (We'd bypassed the 69th floor, there being no bulkhead controls nor anything else of interest, according to Balthier), but whirled when I heard the sound of a battle cry. Basch hardly jumped back in time to avoid being impaled upon the sword of his assailant. The latter swung the second of his dual blades – Basch used his arm to halt the other man's. It was all over before I could blink. The two of them struggled, for an instant, and I watched the evidence of Basch's strength with wonder (and no small amount of arousal). The dark man let up first.

"Ah. My apologies," he said. "You bear not the stench of Cid's lackeys."

So this was the man who was looking for Cid? Could he have been the one who ransacked the office?

"And you are… our earlier visitor," Basch said, thinking along the same lines.

"Yes, a valuable man, one I'd rather not lose," came a voice from above us. Instantly to Balthier's face came a look of such intense longing and loathing that I knew whose voice it was, even if the light, crisp tone and manner of speaking had not alerted me. "Yet he knows too much," the voice – Cid – continued. Reddas gave an inarticulate curse and rushed up the nearby stairs. The rest of us followed, pressing the Crystal near the stairs for luck with such haste that it began to spin, emitting a faint note. Of us all, only Balthier did not partake in the ritual.

The squares of light set in the floor shone out, arrows pointing the way. Balthier, always ahead, ran up first, tirelessly setting a pace not easy to match. I thought again about the upcoming confrontation, curious about what sort of man his father would be. Did Balthier take after his father, or his mother?

At the top of the stairs was a wide-open room. Cid stood upon a platform at the far end, as if on display, and I saw instantly that not only did Balthier take after his father; the two were almost completely identical. Cid had some thirty years on his son, and sported spectacles on a face that was familiar to me even though I'd never seen the man before, but there the differences ended. I'd seen Balthier while we were in the field, leagues away from any kind of reflective surface or spare water, and the growth he got at those times made the resemblance almost uncanny. Balthier usually carried a mirror for the purpose, but in the rigors of day to day life on the road, it was invariably broken when he needed it. It was then that Balthier got Fran to shave him, these were private sessions upon which I didn't dare intrude; after one particularly long stint I'd overheard him murmur to Fran: '_Please make it so I don't look like _him _anymore_._'_

The dark man who had attacked Basch spoke loudly, pulling me out of my reverie.

"Cid!" The man's voice was threatening and angry. "You know deifacted nethicite brought down the _Leviathan_! How can you persist in this folly?"

This proved that he was, indeed, also after the nethicite, but what his connection to it was I could not discern.

Cid laughed, and the gesture was so like Balthier's when at someone else's expense that it brought back memories. "And you've come here to stop me?" he asked, amused. "I'd fain see you try." Now I knew where Balthier got this notion that he was invincible. I had a feeling this confrontation could be very illuminating.

We arrived at the landing.

"Consider your bones, old man," Balthier called, his voice attempting lightness and not quite managing it. "You're outmatched."

Cid's face went through a vague change, as though trying to place the voice – it had been six years since he'd last heard it, after all – and a look of what almost seemed like regret flashed across it briefly, before settling into displeasure. Balthier's father had a mask as well. It reminded me that this was not merely a show put on for my enlightenment – these people were going through tremendous pain.

"Pirate scum of the skies." Cid pronounced each word like a dart, with the intention to hurt. "What brings you here?" Were it not for the lightning-quick expressions I'd just witnessed, I might have thought Cid didn't recognise his son. But I knew better.

"Treasure. What else would a pirate want?" Balthier replied. The lines were drawn. In this encounter, father and son would pretend they didn't know one another, rather than giving in to their heavy emotions. And, I supposed, they _didn't _really know each other. Not anymore. "We'll take the Dusk Shard," Balthier continued blatantly. Cid laughed again. The joke was on us.

"You came all this way for that trinket?" He said the word very deliberately, and I began to be frightened that he called deifacted nethicite a 'trinket'. "I thought you above this." As soon as Cid said those words, Balthier took on an expression like '_the same could be said of you_', but he said nothing.

"Hm? What's that?" Cid turned to converse with the air above his left shoulder. Balthier's mask slipped, and a look of intense pain escaped. "Ah."

Suddenly, Cid's attention was entirely on Ashe. The simple word held a universe of implications, and I perceived that whatever resided above Cid's left shoulder, be it air or what have you, had informed him, not only of Ashe's true nature, but who Ashe was to his son – something even I couldn't even grasp. My up-ended insides grew cold.

"The Princess of Dalmasca come to visit?" Cid's roving eye inspected her closely. "She's not entirely without merit." From behind, I saw Balthier stiffen with fury at the suggestive tone. "A test of sorts for our princess?" Whether he addressed the crowd or the air was uncertain.

"You're a babbling fool," Ashe retorted – trying to score points with Balthier, I now saw. How could I have missed all the signs? They had been so obvious, right in front of me: all the spats, the late-night talks while one or the other was on watch, the murmured conversations at the head of the party, the thousand little kindnesses one paid the other… so concerned with my own feelings, I'd not noticed that the pair had come to an understanding that had deepened. Eleonor had tried to warn me as much, and Fran, too, but I hadn't listened. I wasn't sure if I had insides anymore.

Cid, however, completely ignored Ashe.

"A trial for Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca!" he exclaimed, raising his arms. It was obvious whence Balthier's flair for the dramatic came, but somehow I found it hard to care, now. He looked Ashe straight in the eye. "You lust for the Stone's power, do you not?" Ashe gasped – he'd struck near. The dark man from before stepped between her and Cid.

"Lend him not your ears, m'lady," he advised, breaking the spell. "He means to use you." Then we all stepped back from the wave of sheer power emanating from Cid's body. He leapt down from the platform, and as he rose, so too did the sickly yellow glow surrounding him. The way Cid was laughing seemed to me to lend truth to those that said he was insane, but in a flash of insight I could easily see Balthier doing the same, and that, I think, frightened me most of all. Dual guns of an unusual shape appeared in Cid's hands.

"Manufacted nethicite." Fran spoke for the first time since entering Cid's arena. "Like Bergan." Only those close to her could sense the strain she felt in the presence of so much Mist. In the twilit dimness, Balthier's face registered disgust at the comparison to the Judge Magister. There was bad blood between the two.

"How could you do this?" he asked, pained beyond description such that it showed through his mask. "How could you fall this far?"

The battle began. Large, seemingly mechanical creatures were swarming around Cid and protecting him from damage. Balthier swore.

"Always hiding behind your toys," he said. The mocking tone he forced himself into wrung my heart. "Pity if anything were to happen to them." He couldn't stop the hatred and anger spilling out. Balthier truly wanted to kill his father. It was an image I had trouble reconciling with that of the patient demi-god who had taught me to swim. A hasty conference ended in the decision that the support party (Basch, Vaan, Penelo and myself) would start a Quickening on the things (which Balthier called Rooks, seeming to have some knowledge of them), which apparently cast Protect and Regen at Cid, necessitating their immediate removal. Ashe and Fran conserved their magick for the second stage, doing all they could to restrain Balthier.

Basch got things off to a good start with Ruin Impendent. Vaan, not to be outdone, unleashed Pyroclasm, which Penelo quickly followed with Evanescence. Basch got in Fulminating Darkness, and then Vaan found another source and turned out Red Spiral, with a White Whorl soon after. Basch and Penelo were both exhausted by this point, having taken great beatings on the way up the tower, so it was up to me to carry on the chain. I awaited my chance and unloaded Winged Arrow, and the sensation of the power going out of me felt good. Irrepressible Vaan found yet another source, which manifested itself to me as a shining light somewhere off in the ether. He drew my attention towards it and I latched on, the whole exchange lasting less than an instant. He only had enough energy for another Red Spiral, however. I, too, could only manage a single Thousand Cherry Blossom before the Mist rebounded, unleashing Torrent on the group of four Rooks.

That still wasn't enough, so the four of us, tired as we were, went around finishing off the remainder. It was hard work, and we took a beating: Penelo, with nothing left for a Cure, tossed Hi-Potions when things got too bad. But we finished the job, shortly afterwards collapsing on the sidelines, completely spent. It was the other party's turn now. I wondered where the strange dark man had got to, but couldn't summon the will to lift my head to look for him.

Even after all that precaution, the result was a paling that surrounded Cid, making him immune to the damage caused by physical means. By the time we'd switched, however, the paling had fallen and Balthier was at least able to attack his father, venting his frustration on the man who had forced him to leave all he knew.

Cid cast Haste on himself in order to shoot faster – Balthier had already done the same. Ashe and Fran did not leave him all the fighting, however – each held their own. The battle continued for several minutes, with neither side gaining an inch despite the odds – a mute testimony to Cid's prowess.

The doctor cast Shell and Protect on himself, and then did a completely inexplicable thing. He disengaged and began to walk towards the stairs. Too slow to be fleeing… what the hell was he doing?

Cid himself called it S-27 Tokamak; Vaan called it Super Giant Beams of Death. I called it something in between. But by some cunning device Cid united his two guns.

"It pains me to inform you that your time here is over," Cid said, and for some reason the words sent shivers down my spine. "The curtain falls!" And his mega-gun exploded.

There was no other way to describe it – five jets of energy emanated from his weapon. I saw it as if in slow motion: Fran and Ashe would be all right; they were in between beams. But Balthier was right in the path of one, and he, watching Ashe to make sure she was all right, had no idea.

Before, I had been too tired even to raise my eyes, now before I knew it I was on my feet and halfway across the floor. Adrenaline surged within me as I leaped towards Balthier, who didn't even have time to turn before I'd borne him to the ground as the beam of light so hot it was cold passed over us. I didn't have time to smell burning hair and skin before fire erupted all around us, Cid's laughter ringing in my ears.

I lay, unable to move, hurting in every part of me until the blessed coolness of a Curaga from Fran snapped me out of it. Through the spell I could tell, however, that the viera was having trouble with her magick power. Vaguely I could hear Ashe lashing out furiously upon Cid, and speculated whether the ferocity of her hits implicated her strong feelings towards the man because of Balthier, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

Another Cura and I felt well enough to sit up, or rather, be pushed off by Balthier just in time to see Cid falter to his knees, guns dropping from suddenly nerveless hands. Into the void came a cry I recognised – the dark man, appearing from nowhere, willing to wait upon our sacrifice for his chance to strike. I wondered if he was a pirate.

A paling made visible protected the defenceless Cid and sent the strange man flying back several feet. Cid picked himself up, brushing himself off fastidiously in a manner so reminiscent of Balthier that I almost smiled. Cid turned to his shoulder again.

"Venat, you shouldn't have." There appeared a being, powerful, but twisted and warped in form, surrounded by an aura of Mist, with glowing yellow eyes. It remained until it was visible to all.

"This creature…" Balthier's face alternated between relief that his father was not insane and disgust that he didn't even have that excuse. The being disappeared. "So this is your Venat?"

But once again Cid ignored his son entirely, focussing all of his attention on Ashe.

"Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca!" he cried, and I wondered why he kept using her full name. "Just how far will you go for power?" He winked as if to prove the question rhetorical, like he already knew. "Does your lust for nethicite _consume you_?" He held up two Stones, one in each hand; one Manufacted, the other deifacted, both meaning tribulation for Ivalice. Ashe hesitated tellingly, her eyes wide as she gazed upon the Stones. "Am I right? I am, aren't I? A worthy daughter of the Dynast-King!" His gaze had changed from fervent to patronizing.

"You would do well to go to Giruvegan," Cid continued. "Who knows? You may receive a new Stone for your trouble."

"Your words mean nothing to me!" Ashe retorted, but from her disconcerted tone it was clear that they did mean a great deal. Cid seemed to take this as a matter of course and ignored it. An Atomos craft came out of the sunset sky and landed neatly before Cid, who caressed its hull lovingly.

"The reins of history back in the hands of Man." He said it as if to himself – I'd no idea what he meant by it, though Balthier reacted as though he had heard the words too many times before. Cid addressed Ashe again, completely ignoring the rest of us.

"I, too, make for Giruvegan. Give chase, if you dare it!" He leapt onto the Atomos and departed.

Balthier watched. If his mask had slipped during the discourse, it was back on again.

"I hate it when he does that," he said, somehow managing to sound annoyed.

"Mayhap you think me remiss!" We turned to see the dark man approaching us, apparently recovered from his blow. "The Lady Ashe of Dalmasca?" He sheathed his curiously shaped dual swords. "The sky pirate Reddas, at your employ."

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, just when you thought things couldn't get more complicated, I introduce another player! This is what I like to call a "love square"! I'll be up at my cottage again next weekend, so the update will be coming in on Monday. Hopefully the chapter's extra length will tide you over until then. Next up - the Port City of Balfonheim!


	21. The Port City of Balfonheim

**Disclaimer: **Shot through the disclaimer, and you're to blame...

**A/N: **This update took a little longer to get ready than the others... for some reason my USB key just crapped out on me and took out all the chapters that I'd so neatly prepared... don't worry, you'll still get your updates on time, though!  
For those who noticed, yes, the summary has changed. If it looks familiar, you'd be right again! I have just discovered the Twilight saga, and it has quite literally taken over my life. You can expect to be seeing more of it in the coming disclaimers and author's notes - it hasn't quite caught up to my writing style yet, but it will soon. Fair warning.  
I'm not going to my cottage next weekend, so the update will be on Sunday this week. Without futher ado, please enjoy chapter 21!

* * *

It was the work of minutes to reach the lift and go back to Floor 66, then take a cab to our room in Archades. Reddas' presence among the group sobered us some, and we did not interact as we normally would have done after a major battle while in the presence of a stranger. I had to come to grips with my emotions, which had been bottled, shaken, and uncorked in a very small space of time. I no longer knew how I should interact with Balthier – that was the worst blow of all. My exhaustion doubled the load and thus my loneliness. My still-healing side twinged painfully, and I limped slightly, feeling tightness there and also along my back, where the beam had crisped my skin. I didn't complain, however; everyone was in a similar state.

Reddas led us to the Aerodrome, where his airship was moored in secret. As we approached, I stumbled in pain and weariness. I might have fallen, were it not for Balthier. His hand steadied me – I had flashes of Phon Coast, where he had done the same to someone very different; I was suddenly looking into his face and I wasn't prepared for it. I didn't know what to say, and waited hopefully as Balthier's touch lingered. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then seemed to think better of it and released me, turning away.

My heart rent asunder and scattered to the night air, I quite forgot myself. I couldn't take it any more.

"Balthier!" I cried, reaching out to him, caring nothing for the consequences if I could just bridge the gap…

The gap widened. Balthier walked crisply away as the rest of the party turned at my anguished cry. There followed an awkward silence as they tried very hard not to say anything. Their faces were al shadows to me, even Basch's, which had become so dear. But Balthier was leaving us all steadily behind, and the rest had no choice but to follow. I think the children, at least, wanted to comfort me, but weren't sure how to go about it, not knowing the circumstances. Basch, I am certain, gave me a kind look, before he, too, turned to follow. I might have stayed there forever on the Archadian Aerodrome's cold stones – I didn't realize I had fallen to my knees until Fran extended a hand and helped me up. Where had it gone so completely wrong? Just this morning I had slept against his chest – now he pushed me away.

"It may be long before he returns to you." Fran's voice, neutral as ever, cut me to my very core.

"_Why_, Fran?" I was mortified to hear my voice break, but I couldn't control it. "What have I _done?_"

"Did Balthier never tell you how his mother died?" She answered my question with one of her own, and I was suddenly hit with a wave of understanding that was like a death-knell to my heart.

"Oh." The word I pronounced was almost like a sigh. It was only then that I noticed the tear tracing its way down my cheek. I wiped it away with something close to impatience. _Oh, no, _I thought. _How many tears have you wasted on this man?_

"Your love for him is strong," she said, her voice slightly gentler. "It is not right that you should suffer so. I will speak to him."

"I wish you would," I said, grateful beyond knowing. "But someday I hope I can reach the point where I don't need an intermediary."

Fran nodded slowly. "We shall see. Come."

And she cast an extra Cura on me so that I, refreshed, could walk beside her. I wondered if the viera knew about Ashe. I felt that she did, but also that it was wrong to ask her.

Reddas' ship was Bhujerban – that was all I was in a fit state to notice. I closed my eyes to avoid the sight of Ashe, dozing lightly against Balthier's shoulder, and Balthier, his arm lightly around her.

_I must win him back, _half of me thought. _Obviously Ashe has something I don't – I must surpass her and be good enough for Balthier!_

_But you shouldn't have to win him back,_ my other half said. _He should come to you, too, sometimes, not just the other way around. _Yet somehow I had a feeling that both halves were wrong… but also right.

_Gods help me,_ I thought, and it is the last thing I can recall with any clarity of our arrival at Reddas' Manse.

I woke in a delicate four-poster bed, with sun and sea air wafting in through the window. I sat up and instantly regretted it, feeling a burning ache in every part of my body. I chanted a brief Cure, and when I could move again, I stirred. Standing, I felt a little woozy. I couldn't have counted the number of spells that I had cast or had been cast on me the previous day, and such a circumstance was like to make anyone dizzy.

I went to the window and breathed deeply of the salty wind, letting it cool the sweat from my face – I'd had many dreams during the night, most of them bad, a result of the combination of a tattered heart and utter exhaustion, and thus hadn't rested as well as I'd hoped.

There came a soft knock at the door, and I went to open it. One of Reddas' attendants stood there, with a bundle in her arms.

"Miss Siyana, now that you have awakened, would it please you to go down to the bath?"

Before she had finished, I was already formulating a discussion about the lack of need for her politeness, but that last word swept it all away.

"Bath?" I had to force myself to calm down and not frighten the poor girl. "Yes, I believe that would please me very much."

She grinned. "Good," she replied, full of implications. _The girl has spunk after all, _I thought, though she had a point – I could only begin to imagine how I must smell. "I will lead you there."

I followed her through the halls of the manse, a pleasing combination of stone and beach–weathered wood inlays. There was sparse, tasteful decoration of the sailors' kind – rope knots, wooden models, paintings of famous sailors and famous ships (none of which I knew, of course). Sky piracy was also represented: diagrams of airship parts artfully rendered, actual parts cast of precious metals, and models of legendary airships stood alongside those of the sea in an interesting juxtaposition. Reddas also seemed to be fond of botany, and the many display tables throughout the rooms and hallways were covered with plants of rare and common beauty, their scents mingling with the ever-present tang in the air. The manse was built upon a jetty, and no matter where I went the sound of the waves against the shore lulled and soothed me. I saw a few attendants, but none of my companions.

"Where are the others?" I asked my guide.

"Masters Basch and Balthier are out on the town, as are Mistress Fran and Lady Ashelia. Master Vaan and Mistress Penelo have yet to awaken."

I tried not to let on how much Balthier's name twisted my insides, instead allowing myself to feel relief that I was not the only one – I supposed a day of rest had been ordained and was glad of it.

"Here you are," the attendant said, pushing open a carved oaken door. I didn't see much of the room – once I noticed the tub, filled with gently steaming water, the rest was lost.

The attendant deposited her load, which I now saw was composed of towels and other bathing accruements, and left me.

"Please, take your time," she said. "The Fire Stones are fully charged and the reservoir is there." She pointed towards a stone basin in the corner which was large enough to fill two baths. She winked at me. "Have fun."

I waited, trembling, with bated breath until I heard the door close, and then my clothes were off so fast, I couldn't have been naked faster if a naked Balthier were standing in front of me. In fact, that analogy was a fairly accurate approximation of how much I wanted that bath right now… recent events aside.

Refusing to let those thoughts ruin my enjoyment of this blessing from the gods, I sank myself into the water with a sigh, which quickly turned into a curse as I realized how _hot_ the water was. Feeling my skin scalding, aggravating my already seared back, I could have sworn I heard a fizz-ing sound as the top layer of dirt on my body floated away. Sure enough, when I looked down, the water had already turned that disgusting grayish colour that I cringed to see. I had known I was filthy, but it was another thing to actually see it.

I soaped myself down anyway, and once I rinsed I began to feel a little more like myself. I emptied the tub and drew another for the purposes of my hair, and (glory of glories!) a razor. The reservoir was gravity-fed – I could have wept. The results were much the same. I scrubbed myself within an inch of my life, feeling better than I had in a longer time than I cared to admit.

It was the work of about a quarter of an hour to comb my hair into some semblance of order – I toweled it off and left it loose. It would dry soon enough in the warm air.

There was a robe hanging near the basin, so I wrapped myself in it and, not knowing what else to do, returned to my room, losing my way only once. When I entered, the attendant was there.

"Was the bath to your satisfaction?" she asked. I grinned. "Quite."

"I am glad," she replied. "We will launder your clothes for you, and they will be ready when you depart. In the meantime, Lord Reddas requests you choose what you wish from the wardrobe." She indicated the chest standing in the corner. "Afterwards, I will conduct you to the salon, where breakfast is being served. Call me when you've finished." She stepped outside the door to wait.

I raised my eyebrows. For a sky pirate, Reddas certainly knew how to live it up. The clothes I found in the chest were of the style typically worn in Balfonheim – short shirt and baggy pants. Both were made of the same light, breathable cotton material. I grabbed a shirt of deep blue and pants of a lighter shade, and pulled them on, feeling as I did so that I was pulling on a second skin. I opened the door to the attendant who smiled at me, adjusting her apron over her skirts. She couldn't have been older than I, and she was pretty, with her dark hair pulled into braids at the sides of her head and wide brown eyes.

"There," said she. "You are almost presentable now. Follow me to the salon. I suppose you're hungry."

My stomach confirmed her statement, and she laughed. More important concerns taken care of, I realized I was weak with hunger, and my black-clad guide could not have led me fast enough to where food was.

She left me in the salon and I gorged myself on fruit, eggs, bacon, and toast. The feelings I had managed to keep away thus far came upon me, and my demeanor turned morose as I ate.

Halfway through my third helping, Penelo came down to breakfast.

"Good morning!" she greeted me, cheerful as always, with a big smile, and I paused in my contemplation of my toast.

"'Morning," I said, with considerably less enthusiasm, despite my efforts. Undeterred, Penelo set about filling her plate, and sat down across from me. The salon was furnished with small round tables made of redwood, and as such was very conducive to close quarters when I wanted to be alone. For a while, the only sound was the sea breeze blowing through the wide, curtained windows. Penelo kept looking up at me with knowing, pitying stares that I was fairly certain I did not want to receive.

"Let's do something fun!" she said at last. "Come on, want to come shopping with me?"

I knew she was trying to cheer me up, and was grateful for it, feeling guilty for taking out my ire on someone so innocent. Part of me feared going outside the manse, because then there was a chance of meeting Balthier, but I figured I would have to confront him sooner or later, and I thought I should pay a visit to Beruny and Emma. I'd long-neglected Blayne, and wanted to at least attempt to gather some news.

"Certainly. Thank-you, Penelo." She beamed kindly at me.

"Don't mention it."

By the time we left the manse, my hair had dried completely, and so had Penelo's. The girl was dressed similarly to me, but in yellow (she seemed to prefer that colour), and the pair of us could have passed for inhabitants of the port as we browsed the market stalls. We bought a couple of magicks each – I updated my Arcane repertoire and Penelo purchased a few more Green.

"Vaan'll buy the technicks," Penelo told me, "and Basch and Ashe handle armour. Everyone takes care of their own weapons. Balthier does gambits. He seems to like them for some reason – he'll teach anyone who'll listen. I suppose they're convenient every once in a while." Luckily, she turned away then, to examine a sundries stall, so that she didn't see how I winced to hear Balthier's name. I really should get over this – I would be travelling with him for a while yet after all, and his name would be hard to avoid.

"Shall we head to the armourers'?" Penelo asked, turning back to me again.

Since that was my ultimate destination, I readily agreed, and the two of us proceeded to Beruny's Armaments.

As we entered, Penelo disappeared, ostensibly to examine the second floor. When I approached, attired as I was, I daresay they didn't recognize me. But I got closer, and Beruny became surer, finally fair purpling with rage and lunging for me across the counter.

"Why you little…!" He bit off an exclamation as Emma restrained him.

"Calm down, Beruny," she said, though she looked no less angry. "Fighting won't solve anything."

He calmed and spat, leering at me. "'Twould make me feel a sight better, though," he said.

This was not the reception I'd expected and I stood, bewildered and hurt, unsure of what to say.

"Oh, an' now she'll give us the innocent expression, will she?" Beruny swore and Emma hushed him.

"Well, girl?" she asked, turning to me with her hands on her hips. "Do you have an explanation?"

The question clarified everything.

"Blayne's been here?" I asked eagerly.

Emma gave me such a look that I took a step back.

"You've got some nerve," she said direly, "coming here and saying that. If it weren't for Lord Reddas' decree, I'd let Beruny at you, and I'd come at you, too. Now explain yourself."

I hesitated. "What did he tell you?"

"Enough." Beruny's voice was harsh. "That you ditched him in the middle of a heist and took up with some other partner, leaving him to fend off the Imperials alone."

I blinked. Was that truly how it had appeared to him? I had thought that he would be mad at me because of my failure, not at my leaving.

"You did the absolute most despicable thing you could ever do in pirating, you betray your partner, have the gall to come back and ask about him, and then you don't give us an explanation, having the nerve to stand there, quivering like the victim?" Beruny spat again. "Get out of my shop, and may I never see your face again." I opened my mouth to explain.

"Siyana? What's happening?" Penelo had returned, carrying a bow upgrade and looking distraught.

"It don't concern you," Beruny said to her kindly. "Your friend's just broken the first rule of sky pirating."

Penelo deposited her bow on the counter, waving her hands in agitation.

"Oh, you mean how she joined us? But it wasn't like that! Really, I was there! It was just that there was no time, and Balthier couldn't let her off the airship because we were taking off and…" she seemed to run out of words.

Emma turned incredulous eyes on me.

"Balthier? _Balthier_, did you say? _That's_ you left with?"

I nodded. "Blayne and I were shot down over Ozmone stealing back the _Shera. _We were short a plasma coil, so Blayne said we had to steal one."

"Naturally," Beruny replied, following me so far, already knowing the story. I was vaguely glad he had calmed down enough to listen to me.

"He chose the _Strahl _to take it from, but I didn't know whose ship it was at the time…"

"Blayne did," Emma said. "Dunno what the hell he was thinking, stealing from the _Strahl_. Shoulda known it couldn't be done."

I thought of the impression Fran's claws had made on me and grinned inwardly, guessing why. So far, at least, they believed me.

"He sent me on board to create a distraction –"

"He was mad at you, then?" Beruny asked. I shrugged. "Not explicitly. He just knew what he was looking for. Anyway, I was scarcely aboard the _Strahl _when Balthier came back, being chased by Imperials. There was no time to let me off, and I've been travelling with him for safety ever since."

"Not only for safety, right?" Emma asked sagely. "Else you'd'a taken the first Teleport Crystal you saw. So why're you still with him, then?"

"I owe him a life-debt that has to be paid," I said simply. "My honour requires I stay with him until I've paid it…" I let my voice trail away.

Because, technically, yesterday I _had _paid it, and, though he had not appreciated it, indeed not even acknowledged it, the debt was settled. I could leave him now, take this excuse, and forget about him, never to see him again.

And knew as soon as I thought it that it would never happen. For better or for worse, my destiny was entwined with his, whatever that destiny was. I didn't want to leave them, any of them. I needed more of Basch's stability in my life; I needed more of Fran's sage advice, even were it not on the subject of Balthier. I needed more of Penelo's cheerfulness, more of Vaan's exuberance. Gods, I even needed more of Ashe's stubborn determination. I needed all of them around me. And then, I thought, at the end of the journey, I'd be a better partner for Blayne.

Knowing nothing of what had just passed through my head, Beruny and Emma were both nodding. A debt was something they could understand.

"Well, Blayne came in here about a month ago and told us what happened. The _Shera_'s repaired and he said he was off to Kerwon, to visit some friends there."

"Was he… really mad?" I asked tentatively.

"A little," Emma amended. "But he told us to pass on the message that he's waiting on Mount Bur-Omisace, cleaning up the place, so he hasn't completely disowned you. Consider yourself lucky."

I did. "Thanks, you guys," I said, and shook hands with them. "And your Zephyr Pole's working wonders." I bought a relatively low-level sword for my ongoing lessons with Basch, Penelo paid for her bow and sold her old one, and we exchanged some more pleasantries and exited the shop. It was nearing to noon, so Penelo and I directed our steps to the Whitecap.

"How do you know them?" Penelo asked me as soon as the shop door closed behind us. "What happened?"

"They're old friends of Blayne's," I replied, smiling. Blayne was all right, and so was the _Shera_, and he still wanted to be partners with me. Truly, it was better than I'd hoped.

When we entered, I gave the tavern a cursory glance and sighed, relieved. Balthier was nowhere in sight. I didn't think myself quite ready to face him, yet.

Penelo sipped her drink thoughtfully, looking out the wide windows that opened onto the sea. Curiously for someone of her size and disposition, she could hold her liquor. She'd told me once it was because her brothers had given her a lot of practice.

"You didn't want to see him, did you?" she asked at last, and her tone made it clear what she meant. I took a long draught of my own ale. I wanted to get drunk, so outrageously, stinking drunk that I could forget that I'd ever not wanted to see Balthier. But I knew also that it would be the absolute worst thing to do.

One glance at my expression told Penelo all she needed to know. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, with surprising maturity and tenderness. Strangely enough, I did. But I didn't know where to start.

"I mean, this is _Balthier _we're talking about, right?" Penelo said incredulously. "The treasure hunter, the womanizer, the egotistical pirate who cares for no-one but himself? How could you pine after someone like that?"

I hadn't known Penelo to have such a poor opinion of him, and I was defending him without having consciously made that decision. "No," I said, feeling love creep into my voice in spite of it all. And I told her who we were actually talking about – the handsome, passionate knight in shining armour who released me from my bonds, defended me from serpents, taught me to swim, gave me flowers, recited poetry with me, and allowed me to doze off on his chest. And I realized that Penelo's words had just been a façade, a starting point to get me talking.

"Wow," Penelo said, when I'd finished. "It's like we're talking about two different people."

I nodded. "But you're not wrong, either," I said.

"Well, if he's that amazing, why don't you go after him?" she asked. I took another long swig to fortify myself. "I'll never be good enough for him," I said. "I'm not intelligent or funny or fiery or even all that beautiful. I can't give him what he wants. Besides, he has Ashe now." Ignoring the pain that accompanied the words, I told her what I had seen.

Penelo pulled one of her braids pensively – it meant more than I could say that she didn't just laugh it off or tell me to drop it. "Ashe knew what he was going through," she said at last, "because she's already lost her father. Maybe that was it."

Her words rang true to me, but I knew what I had seen, and as a girl of gil I had experience in such things.

"I suppose…" Even to my own ears, I sounded uncertain. Penelo finished off her drink with a sigh.

"Why don't you ask him about it? You'd better make it up, somehow – you're going to be travelling together for a long time."

There was truth to her words, and as we left the tavern, a tentative plan had begun to form in my head.

* * *

**A/N: **Next up: possible reconciliation??


	22. October

**Disclaimer: **By your leave.

**A/N: **Here it is: another chapter. Have I lost a lot of you? I'm not sure. Here you will get to see the fruition of Siyana's plans. Lots of song quoting - please forgive the stilted dialogue. I'm a nerd that way. Enjoy!

* * *

That night at supper, our host dined with us. Reddas was free with his hospitality, gracious and generous. He forbade any mention of politics or world events at the table and instead regaled us with tales of his life of pirating, at the children's behest. The adults, too, seemed to enjoy themselves, and as the wine flowed freely, Balthier began to tell some of his own tales in an attempt to eclipse Reddas. Betimes he succeeded, but I harboured no delusions about who he was trying to impress. The very thought, to me, was ludicrous. Balthier, trying to impress someone, even having the need? Inconceivable. I wanted to take Ashe by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. Didn't she get it? Didn't she know how many would kill for things to be this easy? But that same part of me knew that Ashe was a wise woman.

Reddas turned to me. "I am given to understand that you, too, are a sky pirate," he said. "Have you any tales to tell?" I hesitated. I liked Reddas, but I couldn't quite forget how he had attacked Basch and hadn't helped in the fight against Cid.

"Oh, please, Siyana?" Penelo exclaimed. "I want to hear about Rozarria!" "Yeah!" Vaan chimed in.

Reddas raised an eyebrow. "Rozarria?" he asked. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the recent theft of the fabled Amberstone of Oradell?"

I nodded. "It does, but I fear my tale is old news to some around the table." I glanced at Balthier, who glanced back at me. That look nearly broke all of my defences and I could have melted at his feet. Even after such disenfranchisement, his eyes still had the power to make me weak in the knees – while sitting.

"Nonsense," Ashe said. "I would like to hear the full tale – I've no doubt it will be very exciting." Beside her, Basch was nodding. I caught Balthier's mouth quirking in his characteristic smirk. It wasn't _quite_ a royal command, but it was close.

I complied, doing honour to the first and only heist I'd done with Blayne.

I didn't look at Balthier again. He'd heard the tale before, anyway. It felt like I had taken my last breath, and was holding it, waiting, all my thoughts locked safely inside. _All I wanted to say was I love you, and I wasn't afraid, _I thought. Was that too much to ask? But now I wasn't just afraid: I was terrified out of my mind, thinking on what I was about to attempt. I knew I shouldn't have to feel that way, but the fact remained that I did.

I finished the tale, and dimly accepted the congratulations and wonderment of the table. Reddas rose, and dinner finished, saying we would speak further in the morning of harsher things. I went to draw a bath, pinning my hair up and sinking into it with a sigh, watching the last rays of crepuscular light sink beneath the sea. I didn't bother to scrub – I was already clean, and this was just stalling. I hadn't bothered to charge the fire stones, but I lingered until the water turned tepid, and then rose with another sigh, towelling myself off slowly. In my room, I dug through the pack which had been left neatly on the bed, pulled a robe over myself, and emerged into the hallway. The party had been given chambers in the same wing, the manse being large enough to accommodate single chambers. Halting outside Balthier's door, I raised my hand to knock… and hesitated. Standing motionless in the hall, I was torn with indecision. I now saw so many things wrong with my plan. At best, he might not even be there. At worst, there could be someone else there.

It didn't matter, I told myself. I gathered my courage and knocked.

"Come in." Balthier's voice, careless and lazy, responded immediately. With a pang, I wondered if he'd been expecting someone. Pushing that thought aside, I opened the door with a trembling hand.

Balthier stood framed in the window, looking out at the darkened sea. When he turned and saw me, for one frantic instant I thought he'd throw me out.

"What do you want?" His voice was neutral.

"To fulfill a promise," I said softly, and shrugged off the robe. Underneath it, I wore the article from Eleonor's, which he had purchased for me… when? Yesterday? It felt like years ago.

I heard his breath catch a bit. I turned solemnly in a circle, arms held out from my sides. Balthier watched me without comment. When I'd finished, I turned to go, one hand on the doorknob, wishing with all my heart that he'd stop me. He did.

"Siyana…" I remembered thinking that the way he said my name was unique. Now I knew that if I was flying through the air, Balthier could stop me with a word. I turned around, fighting hard to keep my body from trembling.

"Yes, Balthier?" I hadn't had trouble saying his name since we'd first met. As I said it, I could see in my mind's eye the last time I'd done so – on my knees, in tears. From the look in his eyes, I could tell he was thinking the same thing.

"What do you want?" he asked again, voice a little less neutral, I noted.

So many answers… _I can't run anymore: I want to fall before you, give myself to you. I want not to lie anymore. I want not to have to constantly be ignoring the pain that's consuming me. This time it's cut too deep. I want never to stray again._

"Everything," I replied, knowing even as I said it that it would never be enough. Not quite. "You," I corrected myself. His gaze never wavered.

"Fran is of the opinion that I should let you down quietly," he said, "so as not to cause you any further pain. She reckons I don't trust you." My heart sank like a stone. So Fran had kept her word, but not in the way I'd intended. Did she truly think us doomed?

"Trust is an oppressive dance," I said, voice a little colder, perhaps, than I realized. "Why should it be I who bleeds?" The answer seemed to throw him. "So what was your plan? To give me a little less every day, just taking what you need, until in the end, both would be as naught? You did a pretty poor job of it. From embracing me to pushing me away is not gently." My fear had faded, and I found myself getting angry. "You want to know what I want. I want to know where that wonderful man from yesterday went. But even if I had him, what we had was never clear. I can't think of what I would say to him, though, so maybe it's all right."

Finally, he moved. "Siyana. Stop." His voice was filled with a complicated emotion I couldn't decipher. "Is that all?"

I shook my head and knelt, even as I had in the beginning when we were just patron and servant.

"I'm sorry," I said, trying in vain to keep the tears from my voice. "Truly, I am. It's only been a day, and already I can't stand it, and I'm crawling back to you. If it goes on longer I don't know what I'll do. So if this is what it takes, I'll do it. I'll believe all your lies. Just… pretend you love me. I'll be anything for you." Part of me was mad for being so desperate. It was only a small part.

"Siyana!"

"But hear this." I didn't allow him to continue, forcing myself to look up at him. A shocked look had escaped his mask, and it helped me to see it. "I think it's wrong, that I should have to apologize for saving your life."

That got a rise out of him. "Did you even think…?"

"No, I didn't think," I cut him off again. "There was no time. But even if I had, I would have done the same thing. It's instinct, not pre-calculation. You don't consider consequences. I did what I did so that the man I love would still be around to enjoy this world, even without me. No doubt your mother thought the same."

Now I'd gotten to the heart of the matter – he became angry again.

"How dare you bring my mother into this," he said heatedly, and I was happier at getting a rise out of him than I'd a right to be. "This is nothing like that."

Still kneeling, I shook my head. "On the contrary, this is so much like that time that it is the cause of this whole discussion."

He sighed and sank down on the bed, burying his face in his hands. His mask had failed him – he had to make up for its absence.

"Are you angry at her?" I asked, tempering my voice.

"No," he said, tone slightly muffled by his hands, in a way that clearly said _yes_.

"But you can't take it out on her, so you use me instead?" That's not very fair, Balthier." I kept my voice light – I'd no desire to start yelling again.

"You're right." He let his hands drop from his face, looking at me with a profound expression. I rose and moved to kneel before him, reaching up to cup his face with my hands. His earrings, symbols of eternity broken, tapped against my fingers. I'd never asked him what they meant. I wondered if I'd ever get the chance. He tensed, briefly, at my touch, and then relaxed.

"There," I murmured. "A true face. I didn't know if you had one, Balthier."

A half-smile. "I thought you were calling me Ffamran."

My eyes widened. "I was - I just…" Words failed me.

"Were you afraid?" As I nodded reluctantly, the sorrow in his eyes gave way to somewhat else. "Good. You should be."

I had a hard decision to make. It was obviously foreplay, and Gods knew I wanted him bad enough, but I wanted him to know that I hadn't come here to be won over by a few choice words. I wasn't going to make the mistake of the first night again.

I smiled and rose, heading for the door, passing the decision over to him. "If you want me to, I'll go…"

I didn't make it to the door. The moment I reached it, his arms were around my neck, my mouth on his. Gods, the taste of him! I bit his lower lip, sucked on his tongue. He shoved me against the door in response. I wrapped my legs around his hips. He clawed at my fine linen underdrawers, tearing them. The sound of ripping fabric made him pause.

"We should- "

"No." I dug my nails into the back of his neck. "Please."

Bracing me with one arm, he undid the straining laces of his breeches. I could feel my wet warmth sliding against his phallus, and I gasped in his ear.

"Enough; Gods, enough!"

He shifted to grasp my buttocks with both hands, entering me with a thrust so hard and deep, it made the door bounce.

It was hard and fierce and so, so, terribly good! The door creaked and rattled as he slammed into me, over and over, feeling my climax with a wordless cry, gripping him with my thighs so tightly, but it didn't matter. He was ready. He buried himself in me and spent, the release so dizzying and intense that for a moment I couldn't see.

The sparkling darkness receded.

He held me where I was, breathing hard. "Feel better?"

"Yes." I smiled. "Carry me to the bed?"

"Can't." He shook his head. "Not with my pants around my ankles." I laughed, arms still around his neck. He released his grip on my buttocks, moving his hands to my waist. I slowly slipped my legs down his until my feet touched the ground and I stood.

"Ffamran," I murmured. "You break my heart."

"Mine, too," he whispered, but I knew it was for different reasons. I was a liability, a limpet he couldn't shake. At least he wanted to get some worth out of me while I was still around. "I know."

He stooped to retrieve his pants, tying them loosely. "Come here." He swept me off my feet, scooping me into his arms and carrying me to the bed. And at that moment, Gods help me, it was so easy to convince myself that the only reason he had been interested in Ashe was because she, too, had lost her father. Clearly, he was not expecting anyone else tonight.

I woke early despite my late night, the first cries of seagulls coming in with the dawn breeze through the wide window. There was an arm around me – Balthier's arm. I lay still, memories of the previous night filling me. Was I good enough yet, I wondered. No. If I, in the throes of passion, had had time to think about Ashe, then he, too, could have thought about her. And while another cast a shadow between us, unwitting, imaginary or not, I would never be good enough. I wondered why I kept doing this to myself. I remembered the night I had first met Balthier – how he had turned away from me, phallus almost touching his belly. Was that because he had had so much practice controlling his body's reactions around a certain someone…?

I'd a taste for pain, as we'd both discovered that night. In the House, it had been something I'd tolerated. Not Balthier's brand of pain. I remembered thinking that he might have had more violent tastes before I'd even met him, and I was right. When Balthier came hard and fast, when he gripped my wrists hard enough to bruise, I liked it. He liked it too, I could see it, when I leaned down and whispered in his ear all the wonderful, horrible things I wanted him to do to me; he got that look in his eyes that I loved.

'_Come,_' he'd whispered. '_I like to watch you come.'_ And I came, a climax completely on his command, whispered words alone enough to drive me over the edge.

With anyone else, the thought would have made me feel sick. Not with Balthier.

I turned over gently, so I could watch his sleeping face, feeling like my heart was being wrenched from my chest.

"If you're trying to tear me in two, Ffamran," I murmured, "you're doing a damned good job."

He stirred, then, at my movement, and yawned. "What was that, love?" he asked sleepily. Looking at him, at his perfect face, I thought my poor heart might burst.

"Nothing, love." My tongue lingered on the endearment that I was finally able to say, even as its twin echoed in my ears. "It's nothing."

I began to rise, pulling on my robe as I sat in the tangle of bedsheets. "I should go," I said lightly. I didn't want to go. I wanted to barricade the door and return to the bed with Balthier, to make love until we were limp and exhausted, covered in sweat and love's juices. For him to tie me to the bedposts and tease me with cruel, excruciating strokes, to make me beg and explore every pleasure, the sharp and the sweet alike. To forget about the world that lay beyond these four walls and lose myself in him.

But there was the matter of Ashe.

A single touch on my arm stopped me. I twisted to look down at him. I could see in his eyes the same thoughts that had just passed though mine.

"You don't have to," he said. "Let them see."

And that was when I knew something had changed.

My fingers paused in their contemplation of my hair – I'd been tying a lover's haste knot, favoured by girls of gil because it was elegant, fast, and convenient. Balthier's gaze lingered on the curve of my upraised arms, on my half-naked self tangled in the bedsheets. I tied the knot, slowly lowering my arms, the weight of my hair off my neck.

"All right. If you're certain…" The fine cotton of my robe suddenly seemed dreadfully uncomfortable. He rose slightly on one elbow and tugged on my half-donned robe so that it came off.

"Of course. Don't worry. Just relax." He guided me down to lie beside him. I hadn't before noticed how cold it was in the room until I was enveloped by his warmth. "What kind of leading man would I be if I were to let you go wandering about the halls at dawn?" He put his arm around me again. "Go back to sleep, love, it's early," he muttered, and from the way his breathing regulated, he dropped off almost immediately. I lay suffused with a feeling of overwhelming tenderness. I knew it would be impossible for me to sleep. Of course, he had been half-asleep himself, or else he wouldn't have said those things, but it was more than enough.

I must have managed, because a light rap at the door shook me out of a pleasant dream. Balthier again stood at the window, looking out at the sea, wrapped in a robe identical to mine. He turned at the sound, but did not respond until I had risen and pulled on my robe. When I had done so, he called lazily for the person to enter.

An attendant I'd not seen before pushed open the door. They are well-trained, Reddas' servants, proud of their work – I saw his eyes take in my presence and the sweat-soaked mass of bedding without batting an eye.

"I'll bring the lady's clothes up as well, shall I?" he said calmly. "Will you need directions to the bath?"

Balthier and I looked at each other. Balthier shrugged. "We'll be fine, thank-you."

"As you wish." The attendant bowed and retreated. Wordlessly, Balthier held out his arm and escorted me to bathe.

I stepped into the tub and sank down, sighing as the warm water flowed over me. Three baths in two days, only one of which I'd had to draw myself, was an unspeakable luxury. I rested my arms around the edges of the tub. "Are you going to leave me alone here?"

Balthier eyed me. "No."

Water sloshed over the edges of the bathtub as he stripped and joined me. Sunlight danced over his tanned skin. Beneath the water, our legs entwined.

We had some time, but not forever. I slid forward in the tub, wrapping my legs around his waist. He slid his hands down my waist, worked them under my buttocks, and pulled me towards him.

"Oh, no." My eyes narrowed. "We don't have that long. Other people need to use the bath, too." Not to mention the fact that I was already quite in danger of hoping, and another session would flip me over the edge.

The characteristic smirk was on his face – no doubt he was thinking the same thing. "It's all right," he assured me.

"Nonetheless." I picked up a bar of soap. "I insist."

He let me bathe him, smiling at the simple pleasure I took in it. When I finished, we both clambered out of the tub. He patted me dry with a thick towel. No words were needed. When we returned to his room, the discreet servant had laid both our sets of clothes on the bed. We dressed and went down to the salon to break our fast.

We were not the first to arrive, nor the last. Fran favoured us with a knowing glance as we entered – I stiffened, remembering the form her "help" had taken – before immediately forgiving her in my head. She was just trying to do the right thing. Basch and Ashe were deep in discussion and didn't look up. For some vague, half-admitted reason, I was glad.

By the time everyone had entered and finished, an attendant had arrived to lead us into Reddas' private study. The harsher things now needed to be spoken of.

Reddas was sitting at his desk, but he rose when we entered and bowed to Ashe.

"Welcome, everyone." He studied each one of us in turn. "How shall we begin?"

"I would hear more of Balfonheim," Ashe said. "I hear tell you pay tribute to the Empire. Yet many of you also supply the Resistance. Why?"

Reddas embarked upon a long explanation of the city's fight to stay neutral, their ties to the Resistance, and what they stood to gain depending on which side prevailed. The others followed with some interest, but all the names and complicated webs of allegiances meant nothing to me and left me far behind. It was these moments that brought home to me how out of place I was. I, who knew nothing of this conflict, did not belong in their world. It was like coming in at the middle of a story to find that you were one of the main characters. I reminded myself that I was here for Balthier and tried to pay attention.

Ashe looked out to sea, contemplating Reddas' words. As he ended, she spoke, still facing the waves.

"They choose to supply the Resistance, yet raise not a sword in aid. What city could do this?"

She'd meant it as a rhetorical question, but Reddas took her up on it.

"A city of men without countries, pirates of the sea and of the sky." _And women, _I thought facetiously. "Few are they who would fain lay down their lives for a friend, let alone a king." Reddas had a point; pirates in general had a saying. _'He who falls behind is left behind.' _The only one this rule did not apply to was your partner, and sea pirates didn't even make that distinction.

Ashe gave up the cause for lost and turned to Reddas, changing the subject.

"The Marquis… he is set on war?" She referred to Halim Ondore, Marquis of Bhujerba, whom Reddas had mentioned during his explanation. He had some clandestine tie to the leader of the Resistance which Ashe did not question.

Reddas addressed the party in general. "The time approaches when he must make his position vis-à-vis the Empire clear. When he helped you off the _Leviathan,_ he spited the Judges full sore. He cannot sit in idleness and expect to avoid a reckoning." He paused. "The Marquis shares my distaste for war. Yet if it comes to it, he will show no quarter." He then highlighted the conversation he'd had with the Marquis that had propelled him towards Draklor and his meeting with us. His mission had been to secure the nethicite so the Resistance would have a clear path to Vayne. Failing that, the Marquis would ally with Rozarria to gain the power he needed.

Basch was sceptical. "It's just what Vayne wants," he said direly. "He lures the Rozarrians and the Resistance to the field, then crushes both with the nethicite."

"I think not," Balthier interjected, speaking for the first time – I instantly turned to study his face. "Cid has the Stone. We grab it, and smash it to pieces with the Sword of Kings. Vayne will be left holding nary a thing." His voice betrayed that the nethicite and Cid were still foremost in his thoughts. He rose. "Time is short. We follow Cid."

I wondered if this was really the wisest course of action, or whether he merely wanted to finish what he'd started. As though realizing this, he glanced at Fran and the others, seeking support. "He's heading towards Giruvegan," he reminded us.

Ashe stared at him. I saw in her eyes what was so often in mine. I wondered that we were not enemies, considering… but those were thoughts for another time.

"Giruvegan..." her voice contained a mixture of wonder, desire, and fear. I understood. Even to me, the name was a vague harbinger of a distant fear, a place whence adventurers foolhardy enough to venture never returned. Red blood painted my cheeks as memories came to the surface and I ducked my head, hoping no one had seen. When I had myself sufficiently under control to peek up again, only Fran was looking at me speculatively. The rest were too absorbed in their thoughts to notice.

Fran spoke for the first time, her voice laden with memory. "It is told of in a song of my people: 'On the farthest shores of the river of time, the holy land sleeps: Giruvegan. Who knows the paths, the way to its doors?'" She looked out at the party, seemingly posing the question. Reddas was the one who replied.

"Then you seek the Jagd Difohr," he said. The name stirred in my memory. '_The Jagd Difohr, was it…? And ever since you got back, this…' _No wonder Balthier was so eager to follow Cid. The party turned to look at Reddas. "Deep within the jungle of Golmore, in the corner of the Feywood, there is a Mist-storm that surges and seethes."

Vaan, impulsive as ever, was the first to act. "Then that's it." He glanced around at the party for confirmation. Finding none, he followed his own counsel. "Let's go!"

"Right." Penelo clenched a fist, having tried for some time to be as impulsive as Vaan (it worked for him she reasoned). Too slow. Vaan grabbed her other hand, dragging her out. The rest of us watched in indulgent amusement, used to their antics. Basch and Fran followed them. I was about to do the same, but Balthier's voice stopped me.

"Not coming, Reddas?" he asked, one pirate to another. "Forget your precious nethicite already?" Balthier seemed to take it upon himself to test anyone who came into contact with the stuff. It was a part of his father's legacy that he would not admit, even to himself. Reddas shook his head.

"Cid's words rang hollow to me. I will follow another course."

Balthier's crisp tone was mostly genial.

"Another lead then, is it? You're well-informed."

Reddas' voice held the same note. "I could well say the same to you, pirate."

The term confused me. Were they not both pirates? Balthier took on that look that he sometimes got with me when I struck too near the mark; a combination of anger and calculation as to how he could turn the situation to his advantage. Sparks flew between them, and I wondered what I could say to lighten the mood, but there was no need. Vaan interrupted, sticking his head in the door.

"Hurry it up, or we'll leave without you," he teased.

"Ah, Vaan!" Reddas paused in his contest of wills with Balthier and looked up. "I've had some of my men check on this Feywood. Best ask what they've found."

If he was trying to instil some patience into the boy, the moral did not find its mark.

"OK! Thanks for the help, Reddas." He left the room. Once he had found a course to stick to, Vaan was unshakable.

Reddas chuckled. "'Fly first, ask questions later.'" It was a sky pirate proverb for exactly Vaan's brand of impetuousness. "Your apprentice is more pirate than you." I looked up sharply.

Balthier evidently decided that discretion was the better part of valour. He went towards the door, walk piqued. "I don't have an apprentice." His voice was annoyed. He spared Reddas one last, animosity-filled glance before following Vaan. There was history between them, of that I was certain. Again, I was about to leave, Ashe at my side, when Reddas' voice halted us both.

"Princess Ashe! I would hear your heart." Ashe turned. "If Doctor Cid spoke the truth, you may well be rewarded with more nethicite in Giruvegan," he said. "Tell me: do you still desire the Stone?"

He had been wise to begin this discussion when Balthier was out of the room. Ashe was silent for a moment.

"I desire its power," she said honestly. "I want… yet I also fear." Her voice turned stubborn. "I must protect Dalmasca. I can't afford to fear anything."

Reddas did not contradict her.

"Do not forget Nabudis," he said simply. "That is my only counsel for you."

Ashe hesitated, then, to my surprise, turned to me. There was such uncertainty in her eyes I could not help but be moved. I smiled in what I hoped was a calming and supportive manner, and received one in return. She had never been anything but friendly to me.

I wondered if Balthier had slept with her yet.

Together, we turned to follow the others.

Grabbing our packs was the work of a moment (they'd been impeccably packed by the attendants, who'd all turned out to see us leave), and then we were on our way once more, our food stores considerably heavier than they'd been – the chances of finding habitation in the untamed south of Kerwon were slim.

"I've some experience with Reddas' 'men'," Balthier cautioned us as we departed. "If the lot of us all show up at once, they'll clam up tight. Feel threatened or somewhat. Best to send in someone endearing and unassuming." Vaan was chosen for the task by unanimous vote.

The contacts awaited us at the end of the pier. Balthier eyed them as we followed Vaan at a discreet distance. "Ah… Rikken, Elza, and Raz. I've dealt with them before. Rikken, at least, will follow Reddas' orders. Vaan will be fine." I studied the three pirates with interest. Elza, in particular, caught my attention, making me wonder if girls of gil-turned-sky pirates were not as rare as I'd thought. The woman was well-endowed and knew it, and she remains the only person I have ever known to be able to wear a thong _outside _her clothes with pride. I admired her.

After a brief discourse, the trio went their separate ways and Vaan came running back to tell us what they'd said. Most of the conversation seemed to center on his trustworthiness, proving Balthier's point. But it was clear that we must needs go to Golmore, then on to the Feywood, and then pass some mysterious trial to enter Giruvegan.

The children despaired of the distance, and begged Balthier to take his airship, but the _Strahl _was still not fully repaired and most of Kerwon was in jagd. Fran smiled at their whining.

"Do not fear. Do you remember Dyce, the travelling merchant?" Reluctantly, the children said they did. "He is here in Balfonheim," she said, "and sells Teleport crystals."

Almost before she'd finished her sentence, we were off. Teleportation was infinitely preferable to any other form of transport if you wanted speed, and a mere 200 gil could save us a journey of 200 miles or more. Dyce remembered the party, too (not me, of course), and was happy to sell us a store of Teleport Stones. All of us gathered around the topaz Crystal. The thrill of a new quest beginning filled me.

Fran, who was using the stone, began the countdown. "3…2…1…"

I felt a jerk somewhere around my midsection as I tried as hard as I could to picture a place I'd never seen. _Golmore Jungle_… The port city faded in bursts of brightly coloured light. The next stage of our journey had begun.

* * *

**A/N: **Next up: the Feywood!


	23. The Feywood

**Disclaimer: **They hide in the disclaimer!

**A/N: **This will be your last chapter for a little while. I'm sorry about that, but this story will have to go on a bit of a summer hiatus. The reasons for this are many, but the main two are these: the first is that I'll be up at my cottage all summer, and due to the situation with dial-up connection, updating as often as I have is just not doable. The second is that I'll be working, and I won't have nearly as much time as I do now (it's an odd irony that I should have _less_ free time in the summer, not more!)  
That being said, don't panic. I haven't forgotten you, not in the slightest! I am eternally grateful to you, my readers and reviewers, for sticking with this story and making it what it is. All I'm saying is that the updates are going to be few and far between from here on out until September. When you have to dial up from a payphone, updating every week is impossible. I'm sorry, but that's how it is, unfortunately. So, if on the off chance I don't see you, have a wonderful summer, and I'll try to get back to you as often as possible. Thank-you in advance for your patience.  
With that out of the way, please enjoy chapter 23!

* * *

If I had expected another sunlit forest like the Salikawood, I was sorely disappointed. The foliage here grew so thick that no light from the outside entered, though someone had kindly thought to provide phosphorous lamps spaced at intervals along the way for us, which cast eerie green shadows across the odd growths of native plants, or else the path would have been in complete darkness. The air was hot and humid, and very soon sweat made my shirt stick to me. It wasn't long before I longed for the fresh sea breeze of Balfonheim. The sounds here were all strange, the harsh cries of unknown birds and angular whistles off in the distance making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, each one a seeming portent of ill omen. The musty rank of mould and of unstinted growth filled my nostrils, and the mossy, leafy rot beneath my feet was yielding and soft. Golmore was darker and deeper than Salika: more mysterious, and it kept its secrets. It was not a place I wanted to remain in long.

Luckily, I didn't have to. After ensuring we hadn't lost anyone along the way, Ashe led us fearlessly through the dim jungle. The other six had the benefit of having been here before, and had me in charge of the map in case of uncertainty. I had a head for cartography, but it wasn't needed. Ashe knew the direction she was going – due South. She shunned any path that did not lead her in that direction.

It was there that I had my first encounter with the creatures known as Malboros. At first glance, I thought them queer things that, for some unfathomable reason, had crowns on their heads. When we approached and they turned towards us, I wondered how they got around with no sense of sight or smell.

That's when I saw the eyes.

Thousands of them, on the end of each tentacle, wriggling around with wet, sticky sounds as they spotted us. I let out a cry of wordless disgust and astonishment, springing forward and landing a critical blow to the first one before the others had drawn their weapons. Basch finished off the one I'd started – I had already moved on to the next one. Working beside the Princess' knight, I decimated the group of three or four in seconds, standing panting with the force of my exertion. I wasn't _afraid _of them, per se, not like I was of snakes. I _hated _them with a fiery passion.

Basch clapped me on the shoulder. "Good work. Any time we encounter any Malboros, you'll be the leader." He smiled at me, but there was an element of strangeness and guardedness in his expression that I had never seen there before. I understood. Somewhere along the line, in Archades, everything had changed.

I wasn't sure if that was a bad thing. But I felt an irrational sense of loneliness and loss that I couldn't comprehend. As I had so often, I pushed it out of my mind – I felt like I'd clawed my way back from an abyss and things were in a tentative balance. I didn't need any further complications.

Our progress south through Golmore was swift, unhindered by any of the monsters we encountered (since by now even I could manage the level 37 Hellhounds that awaited us the deeper we went). The closer we got to the Feywood, the warmer it got, until soon I was forced to take off my green leather jacket and fight in my sweat-drenched chemise. And then the deep green seemed to be bleached out of the world, to be gradually replaced with an ashen gray, and Fran announced we'd entered the Feywood.

Not immediately, but gradually, it began to get cooler. My entire attention was focussed on the level 40 or more beasts that roamed the wood, and thus it was that I didn't even notice the layer of white substance covering my boots for quite some time.

It was soon after entering the wood, having just worked alongside the children to take down a Mantis, that I was abruptly wracked by an intense shiver that must have lasted several seconds. It was then that I realized that it was well and truly _cold_. Looking about me, I could see that the others were raiding the packs and donning their warmer gear, breath forming clouds in front of their faces as they exhaled. With fingers that were almost numb, I took my jacket from where I had tied it around my waist, pulling it on as swiftly as I could despite my trembling muscles. I had never known cold such as this. Oh, I had known change in temperature, the coolness of a Dalmascan desert night, the bite of a chill wind, those types of cold. But never the icy frigidness that surrounded me now.

Collapsing upon myself in an effort to save body heat, which I'd only just now perceived as precious, I ran the white stuff on the ground through my steadily reddening fingers. Before, I hadn't given it much thought, presuming it to be ash or some such, but to my surprise, it was _wet_, not dry. The cold pierced me to my very bones, which was all the worse because it had just minutes before been so intemperately _hot_. This was testified by the sweat on my forehead, which I found very difficult to remove, seeing as it had frozen. The wet white stuff that was not ash should have aroused my curiosity more than it did, but I was just too frozen to care very much about it.

I heard footsteps crunching – a sound I hadn't known footsteps could make until that instant – behind me.

"First time seeing snow, Siyana?" And I felt a warmth descend upon me that had nothing to do with the shirt that had caused it, for both the shirt and the voice were Balthier's.

I nodded, my teeth chattering of their own accord and hindering my ability to speak in a way I hadn't known teeth could.

"You should really get something on your legs, you know," Balthier said lightly. I nodded – in truth, what could make more sense when one was wearing a short skirt in the… was it called snow? – but I pulled the extra shirt Balthier had given me tighter around myself, too afraid to move. Legs? What legs? I couldn't feel them.

"T-t-too c-cold," I stuttered at last, and was wracked by my most violent shiver yet – one that shook my entire body. After a few seconds, I thought it would subside, like the other had, but it did not. It kept going, as uncontrollable as the shivering of my teeth. It was a subject of vague fascination to me that I couldn't stop. And it was that, more than the shivering itself, that frightened me.

Balthier crouched down and gathered my sorry wreckage of a self into his arms. He never said a word, he just held me, silent and wonderful, until at last I was able to pull myself together. He wiped away the frozen icicles of tears from my face and looked at me seriously.

"This is not good, Siyana. You'll have to get more clothes on or you'll die. Come on." He hauled me to my feet, mostly because I was too frozen to move, but also because of my simple astonishment that he'd said something _caring._

With copious amounts of help, I managed to pull on warmer garments of Coeurl pelt. After a while, I could even move again. The party had finished by this time, so we moved on, with very little teasing about my ignorance – Vaan, Penelo, and Ashe's first experience of snow had come a while before, in Paramina Rift, so they didn't have very much position to make fun. This mood continued until we reached a roadblock.

A gathering of Mist so great that it was nearly solid and writhed across our path in a storm that prevented us from advancing. As we approached, it magnified, gusting out and making Balthier, our current leader, turn back. Fran on my right drew in a sharp breath.

Balthier swore, rubbing at his arms. "Dammit! That _stings!_" He looked at Ashe. "It looks like we need to find another way."

Ashe shook her head. "I've been looking," she said, folding up the map she'd been examining – we'd found it in a map urn a ways back. "There isn't one. This gorge is the only way into South Feywood. We have to give it a try."

Balthier raised an eyebrow. "As you say, Princess. If you fancy having the skin flayed off you in a Mist-storm, be my guest."

Ashe got that determined look and squared her shoulders. _Gods! _I thought. _She's actually going to do it! _I opened my mouth to say something, I don't know what, but Basch beat me to it.

"Your Highness, I do not think this is wise. If there were some way to protect against the Mist, or dissipate it…" he cast his eyes at Fran, who was already shaking her head.

"This is ancient Mist, and powerful. There is no way."

Ashe broke away from Basch and approached the Mist with a stubborn step. I held my breath, watching her. When she got like this, there was no deterring her. But as she neared the storm, an extraordinary thing happened. The princess let out a gasp of surprise, which echoed through the silent gorge. She took another step, this time delicate and unsure, eyes fixed on a point the Mist. I stared in confusion at the look of rapture now occupying Ashe's eyes and glanced questioningly at Fran, but her attention was focussed on Ashe. The princess took another step forward, and the Mist exploded, harsh wind blowing outwards, blinding me. Balthier was right. It stung like hell.

When I could see again, Ashe was still staring at that fixed point. Just before the last remnants of the Mist faded, before my eyes completely recovered, I thought I could see an image of a man with a long, heavy cloak. He looked so much like Blayne that I almost cried out, but Blayne would never wear a cloak like that. Almost as soon as I saw the figure, it disappeared, and I was left with a great deal of confusion. Ashe looked back at the party, but her eyes had acquired that distant look they sometimes had when she reflected on the past, and I knew that she wasn't seeing us at all. When I looked at the others, all of them were in varying stages of astonishment and melancholy. I wondered if they'd all seen visions such as mine. But many expressions held vestiges of pain, which I could not understand. Mine had merely been a vision to remind me of my duty – that when I was finished here I was not really done. I still had my responsibility to Blayne. Nothing, not even travelling for four months with Balthier, could make me forget that.

I wanted to ask Fran what she had seen, since she was closest, but I had no time. Ashe had forged ahead into the clearing, and all we could do was follow.

I was soon in water up to my ankles. The water was cold, and quickly made me very uncomfortable, but I didn't complain, instead taking stock of my surroundings to distract myself. This wood (if it was indeed even that) was unlike any I had ever known. It was cold and gray, and the trees were few and far between. It was eternally overcast, and the rare trees were so tall that I couldn't tell if there was a canopy blocking out the sun or not.

Or at least, that was what I saw. Later I would discover that each of my companions found themselves in slightly different surroundings. Just like our recent vision, it was an effect of the Mist, which was certainly heavier here. It made me miss even Golmore, and Salika… a distantly remembered fantasy.

_They wouldn't have had plants like this in the Salikawood, _I thought, looking up at a strange growth hanging on the underside of a branch. It was so bizarre – moving, for one thing, and such a different colour from the rest of the plants – that I pointed it out to the rest of the party.

"Look at that," I said. "What do you think it is?" It really was disgusting, with limbs and petals squelching everywhere. And did I mention that it was _huge_?

Basch gave a cursory glance in the direction I indicated – the rest of them were too busy with their thoughts to even notice. I stopped a few feet away from the branch, staring in a kind of morbid fascination at the plant. It started to squirm more violently. I wondered, vaguely, if it was reacting to my voice. I took a step nearer, all of the caution those more responsible than I had endeavoured to teach me going out the window in my fascinated revulsion for this thing.

Many things happened at once.

"Siyana!" Powerful arms wrapped around me and yanked me backward as we fell in a jumble of arms and legs just as the plant thing fell to the ground with a heavy thud where I had been standing an instant before.

The sound of weapons being drawn surrounded us as I tried to untangle myself from Basch as quickly as possible. I only had a chance to mutter a hasty "thanks" as I grabbed my pole and Basch drew his Defender.

As I stood, I was suddenly hit by a tremendous headache and I staggered, trying to blink through the pain. The rest of the party were in similar difficulties. Fran held a hand to her head, grimacing.

"My magick…" she murmured "…draining…"

"It's set a magick dampening field!" Ashe shouted, her voice pounding me like cinderblocks. "Start a Quickening before you lose it all!"

We all obeyed as fast as we could, but with a combination of headache and magick drain, we were only able to get out some level ones and twos. It was next to impossible to find a Mist Charge, and a few didn't even join in the chain at all. In the end, the only Concurrence we were able to manage was Inferno. Now there was not a drop of magick among us, and I was dizzy and nervous.

The plant summoned some Malboros from nowhere and I could feel my blood boiling. The party was running around groping for items, dodging the plant's flailing tentacles and landing glancing blows. It was utter chaos in the glade.

Ashe drew herself up and bellowed with all her strength (she had a voice to match Basch's, when she remembered to use it).

"First party! Attack the plant! Support! Defend them from the Malboros! Siyana!" I looked up in surprise as I heard my name called specifically. "Sundries! With magick gone we'll need items!"

I saluted with my pole to indicate I'd heard and grabbed the sundries pack. I was disappointed that I wouldn't have a chance to slaughter any Malboros, but the job Ashe had given me was an important one and I took it seriously.

And Ashe was right – we _did_ have need of items. Between the spore effect of the plant and the putrid breath of the Malboros it kept summoning, I was kept as busy as if I had been fighting, healing all the various status effects. In a very short time, I had to become adept at recognizing the various symptoms of Disease, Sap, Poison, Sleep, Stop, Immobilize, and Silence, just to name a few. Vaccines, Remedies, Antidotes, Alarm Clocks, Chronos Tears, and Echo Herbs practically fell through my fingers as I ran from one end of the grove to the other. I always cured Disease first and Silence last, because magick-casting was not all that important right now, but being Silenced became a problem when trying to get my attention, so I stayed on top of things.

The ankle-deep water was an annoyance, hindering me as I ran, and I was quickly soaked from the splashes of the battle. I couldn't feel my feet, but I was sweating from my exertions despite the temperature in the grove.

When Balthier was struck down with Disease, I wasted no time in dodging into the fray and administering a Vaccine, and then I tipped him a Hi-Potion.

As I did so, I saw, rather than felt, something flash across my face. Warm wetness cascaded down to dye the water. I turned my head so that none of it got on Balthier's shirt, putting a hand to my face. It came away red with blood. I stared at it, bewildered. So much… where had it come from? Was it all mine? I felt a concentrated burning sensation in my forehead. Had I been cut there?

"Gods damn it, Siyana!" Balthier swore above the sounds of battle surrounding us. "_Look _before you leap!" He dashed a handful of frigid water in my face and I yelped. Yanking me out of the thick of battle, he swiftly examined my forehead, his usually cool touch burning.

"Got you on the eyebrow," he said. "Superficial. The cuts on the face always bleed the worst. You'll look like hell, but you'll live." He transfixed me with those eyes that never failed to unstitch me, no matter what their expression. This time, they seemed almost… concerned, if that were possible.

"You don't have to kill yourself to prove your worth," he said. "And if you're still harbouring delusions about your life not being your own, I won't even bother killing you. I'll sell you to Flamenca myself."

Despite my pain and exhaustion, I grinned. "Ah, but it would follow, therefore, that you owned my life to sell."

Balthier shook his head. "Gods damn it, Siyana," he said again, but more gently this time. "Go." He gave me a little push in the direction of the battle. "Just try to curb those self-sacrificial instincts."

One of the plant's tentacles swept towards us – not a whippy one like the one that had wounded me, but a heavy, stalky one. Balthier leapt in front of me, drawing his Diamond Sword with one hand while pushing me out of the way with the other. When the danger passed, I placed my hand on his shoulder and gave him a significant look, then dodged past him and re-entered the battle.

It wasn't for much longer, however – if it had been, I don't think any of us could have survived. But Basch and Ashe summoned up the last of their strength and dealt the boss two critical hits, after which it froze, shuddered, swayed, _died_. And there was much rejoicing.

The only thing left was the Bestiary. We always made records of foes we'd encountered and defeated, whether for convenience, future reference, or the help of others. Fran would almost always provide the name of the creature, dredged up from some ancient text or song (for all their solitude, the viera keep the most elaborate system of libraries and information sharing in all Ivalice), and then the Mist-laden parchment would provide extra information on the creature, the Mist-laden parchment burning away, revealing its mysteries. Balthier, with his extensive study into biology and ecology, would classify the fiends into their genomes. When we felled enough of a specific type of monster, its spirit energies would reveal new pages (for more intelligent creatures, perhaps more), but it was up to us to qualify it.

This time, it was Vaan's turn. He took the quill from Ashe and wrote in his loopy, childlike hand, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth and muttering the words as he penned them: '_Aggressive Vegetable'_. He looked up at us and grinned. Penelo let out an exasperated sigh. "Vaan!"

Basch shrugged. "Close enough. Good work, everyone." We headed back the way we came, to the Save Crystal. The swirling lights surrounding it seemed to swim in my vision. As I touched it, I could feel my cut knitting itself, though the blood remained, caking the left side of my face. I couldn't open my eye.

Everyone, with their magick back and their injuries healed, began to feel like themselves again. Ashe studied the map.

"Beyond, the vastness of South Feywood," she said. "I don't relish the thought of camping in the snow any more than you do, but I think a rest is in order before we attempt the second half.

As the party began to set up tents, I went in search of a canteen to rinse my face, which felt tight and awkward.

Basch was in front of me – I stopped and squinted at him. He blinked.

"Gods, Siyana. You look terrible. Here." A canteen entered my field of vision. As I laved my face I could feel the stiffness easing, even though the water was so cold. When I finished, I stood a moment looking at him silently.

"Thank-you," I said solemnly, "for saving my life."

He embraced me warmly, friendly, and I could feel some of the ice in my bones thawing. "You're welcome."

Releasing me, he smiled. "Come on. Sword practice will warm you up."

Basch was right. We worked until supper, and by the end, I could almost pretend I was in a warmer place, except I was wearing furs. I wondered if there was a chance of a warm bed tonight.

The chance became an almost-certainty when the lot for the first watch fell to Fran. Balthier shot me a look that was not a suggestion, nor an order, but something else altogether. He knew he didn't need to ask, and I didn't need to answer. I smiled.

I was most certainly warm that night.

As we lay in the afterglow of lovemaking, Balthier propped himself up on one elbow, caressing my back.

"How did you get that good?" he asked. "Is everyone else in that House the same?"

I shrugged contentedly. "You'd have to ask them."

"No, I mean – were you trained, or were you born this way?"

Grinning, I gazed up into his eyes. "I've had not a bit of training, and my entire life has been leading up to pleasuring you." He laughed softly, and looked away. "As much as I'd like to say that, it's not true. I had a teacher. Her name was Ayla, and she was the senior worker in the House when I got there. She started teaching me after I lost my virginity."

His eyes crinkled with mirth, but they tightened a little, too, for a reason I couldn't fathom. "Oh, instructive, was it?"

I brushed that tiny lock of errant hair from his brow, giving an imitation of Fran's ambiguous smile. "In the beginning, at least. I learn quickly." _Well, in all areas but one, _I thought to myself.

Balthier ran a lock of my hair through his fingers. It glinted in the light, subtle differences in the hues of red and gold. "Tell me more about these instructive parts."

I dropped all expression from my face and put on the imperturbable voice of my mistress.

"First and foremost, it is important to understand your own pleasure," I said. I took Balthier's right hand, guiding his forefinger to my moist cleft and placing the tip of it on my still-swollen bud. "Though the pinnacle of pleasure may be gained by many methods, for a woman, its seeds lie always in the pearl." I could feel the moisture beading there. It was more difficult to keep the voice of calm. "This is the ultimate source of your pleasure. That, you must never forget. You see, though I touch you with the merest tip of one finger, I bring you to-" My voice broke and my hand tightened on his, pressing hard. "Ah! There, yes, there!"

Balthier smirked. "So didactic?" he asked dryly. "Surely not!"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Balthier gave a sudden squeeze and I gave a gasp of white-hot pain and purest pleasure, leaning forward involuntarily into his embrace.

"You like pain, don't you?" he said, as I panted.

I could feel a barrier going up – not his, but mine. The old feelings of doubt and shame started swirling around inside me again. _'People would shun you if they knew. It would sicken them.'_ Somehow, those words seemed clearer and more relevant than that night in Reddas' Manse, when we had whispered all those horrible, wonderful things. Flamenca had known – she had known since she first gripped my arm after my father sold me. It was part of the reason all of the patrons who had more violent tastes were sent my way. I knew the first time that ham-handed Imperial pilot had taken my shrinking, unwilling body by force. I had wept - at the indignity and unfairness; it was true – but also because I was _enjoying _it. I loathed myself. What kind of respect could I have for myself when a boorish Imperial could evoke in me the same rise as a night with Balthier? It was terrible and I knew it. I didn't want Balthier to stoop to their level, but when he did it was so _good!_ And that was what I hated most of all.

Mortified, I felt a tear begin to trickle down my cheek, followed by another. I tried to wipe them away, but Balthier saw them first. Two gentle kisses, that's all it took, and then there was a rustle of bedrolls as he pulled me closer. I could feel more tears coming and I tried to stop them.

"It's all right." Balthier's voice was low and tender as he stroked my cheek, my hair. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. If anyone should know that, it's me."

I gave a watery giggle, surrendering myself totally into his embrace. It was hard to put away the years of self-disgust.

"Truly? It doesn't sicken you?"

"Siyana, if you sickened me, you wouldn't be here. What you have is a special gift. Not everyone has it. It just so happens that masochism gives _me _pleasure, too. Don't fret."

Somehow, his putting a name to it made the whole thing less daunting. It didn't seem so bad when he spoke the word that I'd been avoiding for so much of my life. Overwhelmed by his kindness and the complete overturning of my sense of self, I fell swiftly into sleep.

* * *

**A/N: **Next up: snowball fights, spinning, Gigas-summoning and more!

* * *


	24. The Ancient City of Giruvegan

**Disclaimer: **You an expert on disclaimers now?

**A/N: **Here I am, back again! Thank-you to my reviewers for their support and patience during this time (or am I a little premature?) Here's a chapter for you to read over the weekend - one of the good things about this summer is that I got a lot of writing done and I'm almost finished the story! That said, I think I will move the update day from Sunday to Friday - I'm still going up to my cottage for the weekends and this ensures that you will still have chapters to tide you over.  
Now, if this chapter seems to end a little artificially, you'd be right! For anyone who wants to know what's missing, I encourage you to check out my LiveJournal account. I still have to set it up, but details will be forthcoming as soon as I have the time to go where I want to with this fic, which is more of a crossover idea using more conventions from Jaqueline Carey's novels. As soon as I have my account, I'll let my reviewrs know. Never fear, though, this story will still be going strong to the end on , but the vision I have for the next version is slightly more mature even than this one, and beyond the realm of this site (hence LJ).

* * *

The next morning, we ventured into South Feywood. There was more snow and fewer trees.

And there were Basilisks.

Snakes no longer had the power to turn my insides out with fear, but they still frightened me in a way nothing else could. When we first encountered one, Balthier squeezed my hand.

"Let the others do it. You don't have to fight if you don't want to."

Relieved, I hung back; at least until I could get used to them.

The Mist was heavier here, too. It hadn't been so noticeable in the north, where the trees had been there to block it, but now the shimmering substance reflected from the snow, from the mist, from the clouds… it was very disorienting. I would look up, sensing movement in the corner of my eye, and be confronted with an after-image of myself that lingered just long enough for me to confirm what it was before dissipating into a golden reflection. And I would see others; the rest of the party where they were not, enemies where they actually were, disguised by the glow. But the enemies could be reflections, too, and there was no way to tell.

I watched the children frolicking and making angels in the snow. They seemed to be having so much fun.

"Why don't you join them?" Balthier asked, pulling a pair of boots over his shoes. I'd kept his shirt. He hadn't asked for it back.

I shook my head. "Too cold." My teeth were no longer chattering, and I could speak without stuttering. Balthier smirked, coming to embrace me again. I grinned. "Ah… that's much better."

The cold made my ear throb – or mayhap it was Balthier's voice.

"I can't hold you all the way to Giruvegan, you know."

I didn't answer. Something Vaan and Penelo were doing had caught my attention. It looked fun, so when Balthier had released me and had turned away to close the packs again, I bent down and scooped up some snow, lobbing it at his unprotected back.

By some kind of beginner's luck, it found its mark. Balthier whirled, eyes searching for the perpetrator. I noted he looked to Vaan first as I fought in vain to keep the grin from my face.

His eyes lighted on me. Despite my best efforts, I started to giggle. His eyes narrowed. "Why, you little…"

Quicker than thought, another ball of snow was flying at my face. I experienced an explosion of wet and cold, which somehow wasn't as bad as it would have been a moment ago. I made a noise of outrage and quickly formulated another snowball. Too slow. Another of Balthier's caught me on my shoulder. Mine missed.

Another found its mark.

"Vaan!" Balthier exclaimed, and we put aside our little fight in order to gang up on the boy. It was two against one for a while until Penelo, laughing, came to his rescue. We fought for several minutes, neither side gaining the advantage. One of Vaan's shots flew wild, landing with a wet 'splat' against Fran's bare back (she alone of the party didn't seem affected by the temperature).

We all froze, as though we'd been the ones hit. For one ominously long moment, she didn't turn. When she did so, her eyes were dark and full of danger. I flinched back as though I was the object of her ire, but the full force of her gaze was directed straight at Vaan. And then suddenly, Vaan wasn't there any more. He was face first in the snow, and all of us still had our snowballs in our hands.

It was Penelo who sounded the alarm. "Duck!"

We all hit the turf as some form of projectile whirled over our heads. I looked up in the direction it came. Basch was stooping to make another snowball, twice the size of any of ours. I thought Vaan was unconscious.

Basch started to laugh as we ran for cover. I was laughing, too, in a half-hysterical way, as I dodged snowballs the size of small boulders, hardly able to see because of the snow flying everywhere. The laughter of the party surrounded me. I thought I could even hear Ashe laughing.

"Left!" Balthier shouted, somewhere on my right, so of course I peeled right, to Balthier's annoyance. "Your _other_ left, Siyana!" My eyes cleared and I saw many things in a single instant. Vaan was picking himself off the ground. Penelo was cowering behind a tree, and Balthier and Ashe were standing off to the side. I was now directly in Basch's line of fire, and Basch was standing with his arm half-cocked, ready to throw.

But he didn't. We stood staring at each other for a moment that was slightly longer than it needed to be. There was a conflict in Basch's eyes that was deeper than it needed to be. I stood panting, clueless. What was going on? He certainly hadn't had any qualms about flooring Vaan, so why not me?

Basch dropped the snowball at last. Ashe took a deep breath to recover from her laughter and ordered us all to move out, saying that we'd lingered long enough. We did so, laying and cajoling with each other. No one else seemed to have noticed anything strange. But I was pensive. Why hadn't Basch hit me?

Soon after entering the area, we encountered some kind of shrine. We literally ran right into it – because of the bewildering conditions it was impossible to see more than a foot in front of your face. It put everyone on edge. The shrine was guarded by several Praying Mantis, which we dispatched as we entered.

There was some kind of sigil etched into the floor, pulsing with an ethereal light. I knelt to examine it, tracing the intricate pattern with my hand…

And froze.

Voiceless words chimed within my head.

'In this sanctum shall the pilgrim find truth and illusion both. Illusion betokens the true way.' The words had no speakers, no voice, but the experience was so exquisitely beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes. I looked up. The rest of my companions seemed caught in the throes of similar rapture.

The spell was broken, as usual, by Vaan.

"Wow, Siyana! How did you do that? It was really pretty."

I stared at him in astonishment. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well… those words you just said – about the illusion and everything. You sounded nice. How did you and Penelo manage to sound so much the same?"

I straightened slowly. "I didn't say anything, Vaan."

Basch frowned. "I, too, heard your voice."

Ashe shook her head. "That's not what I heard."

Fran agreed. "I did not hear Siyana."

Penelo gasped. "Could this be the trial that we have to pass? We have to look for an illusion!" She began to look around as if an illusion was going to pop out of the air. But I paid no attention, concentrating instead on the experience we had just shared, because the voice that I had heard was Balthier's, the way he sounded when he was being kind. I wondered whose voice Balthier had heard.

Penelo was spinning like she was dancing, looking out first one section of the shrine, then another. Since I could make neither heads nor tails of the message that was still ringing in my head, I left Penelo to her own devices, surprised that she seemed to know what to do.

As she reached the point when she must surely fall from dizziness, she slowed and pointed. "There!" I looked, but could see nothing different.

"What's there, Penelo?" Vaan asked. She blinked at him. "Can't you see the forest?"

"We are in a forest, Penelo," I said. She shook her head. "No, no, I mean that pretty green woodland. You can't see it?" she asked plaintively as I shrugged helplessly. "Can any of you see it? It's right there!" But her casting about produced no one. Only Penelo could see the vision.

Perplexed and frantic, the girl began making suggestions. "Maybe if you all spun around…"

"Out of the question," Balthier replied instantly, at the same time as Ashe snapped "absolutely not." The rest of the party likewise declined, and I stifled a giggle at the thought of Balthier and Ashe and Basch and Fran spinning around in circles. Penelo seemed to deflate.

Ashe took pity on the girl. "It's all right, Penelo. We'll take your way. It can't do any harm, and I haven't got any better ideas."

We set out in a straight line from Penelo's illusion. Along the way, we encountered a myriad of different beasts – I had overcome my fear of Basilisks sufficiently to help fighting them. Whenever we got turned around, Penelo would close her eyes and spin around, gain her bearings, and off we would go again.

In a short time, we reached the next shrine, with the same sigil. 'Illusion betokens the true way,' said Balthier's kind voice. Penelo spun in her ritual dance; just watching her made me dizzy.

She led us off in another direction, and we found a third shrine. The next time she found the exit, and we went to the next area.

Here, there were no fewer than four shrines that Penelo led us through, until we reached a high gate situated in a cleft between two cliffs. It was intricately carved in sacred symbols long lost. There was no obvious means of opening it.

"So… this is Giruvegan," Ashe said. Basch went and pushed at the door with all his considerable strength, but to no avail. As he stepped back, wordless voices chimed again in my head.

'Gigas summoner, show forth thy power,' the words began, yet as I listened they proved as much a riddle as the others, and I frowned.

"The words would seem to point to you, your Highness," Basch said. Ashe got a determined look.

"Very well." Already as she stepped forward Mist was swirling at her feet. Pressure was building in the air, pushing on me as she gathered it to herself and she chanted.

"Scion by creators loathed,

Dark rebellion you chose.

That one day you redeemed may be,

_Belias, I summon thee!"_

A summoning circle sprang into being around her feet, traced with magickal symbols of power and binding and release. As I stood watching, Belias, the Gigas, seemed to eclipse Ashe's form and took on one of its own.

Ashe moved forward to touch the door as the world took on a red haze. Snow melted around her footprints and in a radius around the Gigas. It became sweltering in my furs. She looked back at the Esper, her meaning clear, and stepped back.

As though in prayer, Belias brought his hands together. The light in the middle of the gate pulsed outward in response. Belias shifted position, hands in the form of an opening lotus, and swept a broad stroke with his axe. The gate was pushed back and opened.

Ashe turned back to her Esper and inclined her head in thanks. Belias gave what was unmistakeably a bow and shimmered back into the Summoning dark. We entered the ancient city of Giruvegan.

The first thing I noticed was that it was warmer here, somehow – even tough I knew that beyond the gate lay a snow-covered forest, no frost lay upon the land of Giruvegan. The city was situated in the middle of an immense lake, and foreign trees called palms and ferns and cycads grew in profusion. Ivy slithered up the carven lengths of monolithic columns and archways. Light was provided by means of coloured skystone floating slightly above the manicured lawn. They framed a long promenade paved with sky-blue marble. But the most amazing thing of all was the sky. It was blue as the lake below, save for a ring around it that was red, rotating as a paling over the entire expanse. I hadn't expected it, but Giruvegan was beautiful, untouched by the ages that had passed it by.

Ashe's voice was rapt as she stepped forward. "On the furthest shores of the river of time," she recited, "shrouded deep in the roiling Mist."

Fran didn't move.

"What is it, Fran?" Penelo asked.

"The Mist runs thick here," the viera replied, her voice hesitant.

"Like on the _Leviathan_?" Vaan asked. Penelo made a gesture of distress, but Fran merely said:

"Do not worry. I will behave myself." For some reason, the words sent shivers down my spine. I'd heard tales of the events on the Leviathan, heard how volatile Fran was. It was somehow… arousing.

"The Mist here is… cooled," Fran continued. "I sense something like the shadow here."

"Venat." Balthier's voice was laden with memory, and I cringed. Just when I thought it buried… But it would never be buried until one killed the other. The thought pained me more than I could say. Balthier turned from his contemplation of the city. "It appears Cid has yet to arrive," he said. "We'll lie in wait for him here."

I opened my mouth to speak, but Penelo beat me to it. "So we're not going inside?"

Balthier shrugged, the mask that had lain dormant for so long now firmly back in place. "Not unless you want to end up _twisted_, like the old man."

_He wants to protect us_, I realized, remembering that Cid had returned from the Jagd Difohr unrecognisable to all who knew him. I went to Balthier and laid my hand on his arm. He was tense with both curiosity and fear. It didn't suit him.

"Don't worry," I whispered. "I won't let the same thing happen to you." A silly thing to say, but the gaze he turned on me was deathly serious.

"Thank-you." His attention was drawn by Ashe. The princess stood near the beginning of the bridge, that faraway look in her eyes again. Balthier took a few steps toward her. "Something there?"

She didn't answer, but began to walk slowly down the promenade.

"What is it?" Penelo asked Vaan.

"She can see him," the boy replied. "Let's follow her."

As we began to move forward, with a slight hesitancy on Balthier's part, I turned to him.

"What does Vaan mean?" I asked. "Who can she see?"

"The late Prince Rasler." Balthier's voice was neutral. "She's been following him ever since we got the Dawn Shard."

I paused slightly to gather my nerve. "Who did you see? Back there in the glade?"

He was silent for so long I wasn't sure he'd answer. "My father," he said at last. "Before…"

I smiled gently. "I would have liked to have met your father – before he became Cid."

Balthier's eyes were deep with memory, seeming ancient with their sadness. "You would have liked him."

At the topaz Teleport Crystal, we all shed our furs before going further along the promenade. There was a strange device at the end of the walk – it stood seven or eight feet tall, and glowed orange like the Crystal, but it was shaped like a lantern and had a carved disk which rotated slowly. Beyond it, a further platform could just be seen across the misty lake with no visible means of transport.

"Never seen a Way Stone before, Siyana?" Balthier's voice was back to its cool, crisp tone. I shrugged. "I used them in Rozarria, but they were shaped differently."

"Well, at least you're not completely hopeless," he said, as Ashe gave orders.

"Everyone gather round," she said. "You know the drill. Make sure you're touching at least some part of the stone. We're on our way."

We obeyed, and I found myself pressed between Balthier and Fran. My heart gave a quiver and the Stone began to vibrate. Again I felt a jerk somewhere around my midsection and I couldn't breathe. There was a sound of magickal machinery, a rush of wind, and then the myriad of colours before my eyes faded and we stood upon the far platform.

We approached a statue that was very lifelike; a headless Striker wearing ancient dress – a Daedalus of legend. As we got closer, there was a muted thumping, as if a heartbeat other than my own had invaded my body. A sound of grinding stone caught my attention and I stared as the statue began torturously to pull its sword from the ground. Mist swirled around the creature, livening the stern grey stone and changing it to living hide. Once, twice, the mighty Daedalus swung its massive sword, and the battle began.

Ashe organized an all-out offensive. "Vaan, Basch, Siyana! Support me! The rest are on casting duty!" Not allowing myself a moment to be surprised that I was in the melee group, I twirled into action with my pole. Ignoring everything except the task at hand, I followed as Ashe led the charge, Claymore in hand, Vaan with his Diamond Sword and Basch with his defender on either side. Ashe had chosen weapons that were powerful and the most wieldy to be on the front line.

Daedalus focussed most of its attention on Ashe, and Fran kept up a steady stream of Cura. Every once in a while, however, the guardian would start to glow and Blizzaga or Thundaga or some such would fall upon us. I was alternately freezing and overheated from being struck by lightning. Smite of Rage was another thing to watch for – it could knock one out in one blow – but those hits, too, were mostly directed at Ashe. All I had to worry about was how many combination hits I could manage.

Since Ashe had been the one hit the hardest, it was only fitting that she should be the one to land the killing blow. Daedalus faltered, staggered back, and knelt before us as it had before, only now off to the side. I lowered my pole, panting, as the guardian became as stone again.

A sudden sound from behind made me jump and spin around. I put up a hand to calm my racing heart as a Way Stone burst into being. We were free to move on.

The party took a healing break. I'd strained my arm on Daedalus' armour, but nothing too serious. I rubbed my elbow, chanting cure, and the pain vanished.

"You actually managed to get through an entire boss battle without trying to kill yourself." Balthier's voice came from behind me, and I turned around. The characteristic smirk was in place, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Congratulations."

I grinned and shrugged. "He wasn't so tough." Balthier shook his head and ruffled my hair. "Come on," he said. "It's time to use the Way Stone."

One extremely uncomfortable jerk later, we found ourselves in the depths of the hidden city. I looked around in amazement. It was dark and deserted, but many points of light shone like eyes in the inaccessible distance, a mystery in the empty land. Different levels were connected by means of ramps. I went to the edge of the platform we'd appeared on and peered over.

"Whoa!" My startled cry echoed down a dark shaft that seemed to go on forever. I stumbled back from the edge, feeling vertigo tugging at my insides. I counted at least eight repetitions of my voice before it finally faded away. Ashe looked faintly green.

"Don't fall off, anyone." Balthier said jokingly. Ashe was too sick to glare at him.

Basch surveyed our surroundings with a critical eye.

"None have ever made it this far before us," he said. I bit my lip but said nothing. "We have no map, and no chance of attaining any. We must carefully track our movements to ensure we do not keep going in circles."

"I'll do it!" Vaan volunteered, his voice sounding louder than usual in the silent chamber. Balthier put up a hand to stop him. "I think not. When we left you with the task in the Stilshrine, you had us running around the Walk of Reason for hours before Fran realized you were drawing the walls backwards." He displayed the mess of the party's first map of the passage for confirmation. I winced. Basch shook his head. "I remember."

He shrugged. "I've not the accuracy for such a task. Balthier?"

Balthier crossed his arms. "I'm much too accurate. Rough sketches elude me." Basch turned to our resident viera. "Fran, what of you?" She held out her hands, palms-forward. "Unless you carry a _kyrn_ for those with claws to use, I cannot."

Basch nodded. "Penelo?" The girl waved hands in agitation. "Oh no, not me! I can't draw to save my life!" Basch looked to Ashe, but the princess still looked too sick to do much of anything. He met my eyes. "Siyana? Can you do it?"

I nodded, feeling very self-conscious. "I think so. My father taught me how to draw maps."

"But your father was a merchant, right?" Vaan asked, and I looked up in surprise that he'd remembered something. The boy blushed faintly when I stared at him and put his hands behind his head.

"What of it?" I asked. I tried to remain cordial. It wasn't his fault that he'd hit upon something that I didn't want touched.

Vaan blushed harder and murmured something inaudible as Basch handed me a quill and parchment. "Thank-you, Siyana," he said. "Do your best." He looked up and spoke to the party in general. "We move!"

I delved back in my memory to remember words I thought I had lost forever. _Trimahla Water-Steps_, I wrote.

The party fell into a routine despite (or perhaps because of) the strangeness of our surroundings. I found myself the centre of attention of the entire party as they all did their utmost to keep the monsters away from me. As Balthier most succinctly put it, 'It would cause difficulties if blood got on the map.'

Down the first ramp, we came upon a device that looked similar to the Way Stones we'd seen outside, save that it was smaller, and seemed to operate by means of a rotating blue disk in the middle. I could not discern what caused the magick to have form – the disk was much firmer than Mist, but too thin to be crafted of magicite. I could only assume that it was a force field of sorts, created and maintained by means of a crystal somewhere within the mechanism. The device was ancient beyond reckoning, but still seemed to be functioning. It was guarded by two Mythril Golems. I inked in both the Stone and the gate beyond, then took out my pole and got in some long-delayed fighting. When the Golems lay vanquished, Balthier inspected the mechanism closely. He let out a low whistle.

"It's still functioning perfectly after all these years. Our modern scientists could take some cues from them." He got an eager look in his eyes. "I wonder how they achieved…"

"Hold it, Balthier," Ashe said, putting her hand on Balthier's shoulder, for he showed all the signs of wanting to take the device apart and spend several hours discovering how it worked. The touch lingered a moment longer than absolutely necessary. I began furiously to shade in the walls I'd sketched.

"Basch," Ashe continued, "the device may stick. If you could…"

The knight nodded briskly. "Of course, your Highness."

But his strength was not needed. The lever went up smoothly, and the disk vanished with a faint 'fizzing' sound. The force field beyond disappeared also.

"So these devices must be Gate Stones, controlling those green barriers," I said, inking in the names 'Avrio Gate Stone' and 'Avrio Gate'.

Ashe agreed. "We must seek these Stones to move further onward." We passed where Avrio Gate had been, going south down the ramp, then south down the next. Unsure of her direction, Ashe made the wise decision to keep going in the same direction until she encountered an obstacle, rather than turning often and getting lost.

On the end of the ramp, we encountered another pair of Golems and another Gate Stone. As soon as I finished sketching the outline of the platform, I joined the fight. Because of the Embroidered Tippet I wore, I'd been gaining double the experience for each battle, and my level was now in the mid-thirties. After the Golems were defeated, Basch activated the Chthes Gate Stone, but this time the gate was not immediately apparent.

There being nothing left to do but go north, we did so, taking the opposite ramp than the one we'd just taken, descending the other side. We kept working our way through the ramps until we reached what seemed to be the final platform. There was no guardrail between us and the endless fall beyond, and one didn't have to be afraid of heights to feel nervous. Ashe almost didn't fight, only joining the battle with the two Golem guards when they were almost on top of her. When they lay vanquished, the party halted.

"Well," Vaan said, "what's next?" Fran's head was cocked as if listening.

"I sense Mist," she said. "There are Crystals nearby."

"What do you suggest we do, then, Fran?" Balthier asked his partner.

The viera turned and calmly took a step off the platform.

The party made various cries of distress and leaped forward, but our cries were drowned by a loud 'cracking' sound as a path made of the same green disks that operated the Gate Stones burst into being. The path stretched off into the distance. There was silence for a few moments.

Balthier let out a long, slow breath.

"Gods, Fran! Don't you ever tire of trying to give me a heart attack?" Fran, with only an intangible barrier keeping her from certain death, looked imperturbably back at us.

"Do not blame me for your inferior senses," she said, apparently meaning no offence, though one could never be sure. "Come. Cid awaits."

Vaan, ever-curious, walked up to join her. "This is so amazing!" Penelo tentatively joined him, reaching for his hand. "This is so creepy!"

I looked to Ashe, but Basch already had her well in hand.

"It seems perfectly safe, your Highness," he said. "Keep close behind me, and you'll be fine."

I did not have such qualms about crossing the bridge as Ashe, but who wouldn't be nervous about trusting their life to a force field bridge left by an ancient civilization, with the bottomless chasm it spanned presented beneath your feet for deliberation? I felt badly for the princess.

Stalling, I penned in the new path, then took my first hesitant step. To my surprise, it was firm and unyielding beneath my feet, such that I almost didn't notice the difference between the path and the stone. I tried my utmost not to look down, but it was inevitable, and when I did so my breath caught and I staggered a little. It was so deep!

Balthier was there to steady me, as he always was, and I wondered what I would do without his constant presence at my side.

"Steady, Siyana," he said. "Take it nice and slow." I smiled at him. "All right. Thank-you."

The party was silent for a while, the slight 'pinging' sounds our footfalls made resounding through the empty chamber. Ashe brought up the rear, staying close to Basch, breathing heavily, her eyes alternating between being wide open and squeezed tightly shut.

At length, we reached the next set of ramps, the Aadha Water-Steps. I marked it on my map and we began.

What became immediately apparent was that the Gate Stones and the barriers they serviced were more scattered this time.

We fought down the first ramp to the Paron Gate Stone, but it did not affect the nearby barrier, which closer examination revealed as Gate Parelthon. There being no other route to take, we headed down the ramp to the northeast. As we zigzagged across the across the ramps, I was starting to get very weary, and our supplies of status-healing items were getting strained by the endless waves of Vivian and Ose. I sighed after drawing in yet another ramp.

"These Giruvegans must have had a lot of time on their hands," I said, "if their entire city's made of ramps."

Balthier chuckled. "Siyana, you may be the only person I know who can be the first to enter the city of an ancient civilization and comment on their time management." I shrugged. "I'm sick of ramps."

We found the Parelthon Gate Stone, but again the switch did nothing to the closest gate, which turned out to be Gate Tychi. We fought up the set of ramps, found the Stone, then headed back the way we'd come. Beyond Gate Tychi, Vaan ran off to examine an alcove.

"What do you think that thing is?" he asked, approaching a floating crystal-shaped balloon I hadn't noticed before. "Is it treasure?"

"Don't touch it!" Penelo exclaimed. "It's an alien civilization! It could be an explosive! You don't know!" Vaan opened it anyway and pulled out a White Fang. He shrugged as Penelo glared. "Seems okay."

Penelo gave an exasperated sigh and stomped on ahead. As we reached the end of the platform, which dropped off into oblivion again with no guardrail, the party drew in a collective breath.

"Well, everyone," Basch said, "you know what is to be done." No one seemed willing to make the first move, so Fran, utterly calm and neutral, stepped off into nothingness. The rest of us, with less hesitation than before, followed her. Ashe kept to the very centre of the force field, and didn't talk to anyone. As we reached the middle of the path, we were greeted with an incredible sight: a Great Crystal, seemingly made wholly of dusky nethicite, set about with shimmering pieces like stars hovering around the main body, which was shaped like a honeycomb and glowed with a strong golden light. Penelo looked over at the city's centrepiece.

"I can't shake the feeling we're somewhere we're not meant to be," she said. I nodded. I knew the feeling. The hairs on the back of my neck hadn't stopped prickling since we'd entered.

Vaan moved up beside her, almost to the edge of the path. I got nervous just watching him. "Yeah," he said. "It's exciting."

"Exciting?" Penelo said incredulously.

Basch joined in the conversation. "You are not troubled by the unknown?" he asked. His voice was not troubled, but fairly close. "Who can say what lies ahead?" he continued. "We may encounter the very creators of nethicite."

Vaan put his hands behind his head, but the eager light in his eyes did not diminish.

"Yeah, I don't know what we'll find," he replied. "I like it better that way."

"You're sounding more the sky pirate every day," Basch said, but Balthier shook his head. I grinned at him. The two of us knew that sky piracy was not all excitement, romance, and the unknown. It was mostly survival and trying not to get caught.

Balthier, too, surveyed the Great Crystal.

"That much nethicite… the sight of it would make Cid go nuts." The mirth faded from his face. "Maybe it did. Siyana," he said to me without turning, "if anything… happens in there, if I go twisted." He met my eyes. "If at any point I become anything other than… me, you mustn't hesitate. Shoot me. Before I end up like him."

I was struck speechless. I stepped towards him, unsure of what to say. It was a hard thing he asked of me.

"But… Balthier!"

He grabbed my hands. "You must promise me, Siyana! I'd rather die than turn into what Cid is. Will you swear?" I bit my lip. Could I, honestly, promise to kill Balthier? Did my love extend so far? If it were for his own peace of mind of mind and happiness, did I really have a right to do otherwise? But… could I? I tried to imagine pulling a gun on Balthier with the intention of ending his life. It was a wrenching feeling, like a blunt, rusty knife in my chest was being twisted slowly. I looked down, unable to promise.

"Gods, Siyana," Balthier said, putting his hand on my chin and raising my head just as I loved. "I'm sorry. It's a hard thing to ask, I know. If you can't do it, I'll ask Fran, but… I'd much rather be killed by you. Weakness is a foreign concept to Fran."

I understood, and thus did I make my resolve.

"Well, then, when you put it that way," I said tremulously. I swallowed hard, feeling the serrated knife pulse. "I swear it, Balthier."

His lips touched my forehead with the softest of pressure. "Thank-you." I forced a smile and squeezed his hand.

"But nothing like that is going to happen to you in there," I said, sounding more sure than I felt. Who knew what could happen, in such a mysterious, ancient land? "I'll make sure of it."

Balthier inclined his head, the gesture indicating both his appreciation of my statement and his doubts at my ability to carry it out. By then, the rest of the party had recovered from their Crystal-induced reverie. We moved on.

The path brought us to a simpler area than the others so far – a single corridor called the Haalmikah Water-Steps. At the end of the corridor there was a much-needed Crystal. We all touched it gratefully, jumping at the chance to rest our aching limbs.

Not knowing what lay ahead, Ashe gave the order to strike camp where we knew we could rest, rather than forging ahead. As we all set up our tents, Balthier came over to me.

"Happy name-day, Siyana," he said. I blinked at him, stopping in my work. He had remembered, and I had completely forgotten. It was the 30th of Fading – my name-day. I was 20 today – an auspicious age.

"Oh… I guess it is." I smiled. "Thank-you, Balthier." I fell silent as Balthier held out a box to me. A small sound of astonishment escaped me and I took the box with trembling fingers. "What's this for?" I asked, staring at the box as though it might contain the secrets of the universe.

Balthier shrugged. "It's your 20th name-day. It's only fitting that something should be made of it. Go on, open it," he urged, for I continued to stand there, staring at the box. I'd never received a present before. My parents had always been too poor to spend money on such extravagant things (and if they hadn't been, I had my doubts about whether they'd remembered). Unsure of what to do, I drew in a deep breath and opened the box.

It contained a necklace, shining and delicate. I let out a little 'Oh' of delight and wonder as I held it in my hand, almost afraid to touch it. It was simple, yet beautiful in its simplicity, a small teardrop-shaped pendant on a silver chain. The teardrop was a sapphire, set in white gold, with tiny dots of diamonds outlining it. He certainly hadn't got it around here: he must have bought it in Balfonheim. I also knew that it had cost a fortune. So he had been thinking of me in port, and had been carrying it all this time…

I looked up at him, fighting to keep the tears from my eyes, though they took my voice.

"It's… wonderful, Balthier. Thank-you." I embraced him warmly, forgetting our unspoken agreement not to show affection where others could see. "Thank-you so much!"

His mouth quirked in a smile. "Why don't you put it on, then?" he asked, and took the necklace from my hand, turning me round and clasping it behind my neck. I turned back to face him, feeling… prettier, somehow, more graceful.

"It suits you," Balthier said. "I knew it would."

I played with the pendant between my fingers, admiring the way it shimmered in the light from the Crystal.

"You may be interested to know," Balthier said after a while, "that it happens to be Fran's name-day today, as well."

"Really?" I said, pausing in my contemplation of my first gift and looking at him with widened eyes. It was an odd quirk of life that I should share a name-day with Fran. Then I gasped. "Oh! Why didn't you tell me? I don't have anything for her..."

"That's all right," Balthier said, his characteristic smirk spreading across his face, "because _you're _going to be her present."

As I stared at him uncomprehending, he began to explain.

* * *

**A/N: **See? Vague, isn't it? I hate having to do this to you, my faithful reviewers, but I think it's better for everyone in the long run. Keep your ears (or I suppose it's eyes) open for news of my LJ account! Next up - Tyrant and the Occuria!


	25. The Truth

**Disclaimer:** It's an easy disclaimer, and you'll thank me for it someday.

**A/N: **Welcome back, everyone! I sincerely hope you all had a wonderful weekend! Sorry for the delay - I know I promised Friday updates but it's so hard to get back into the rhythm of things... hopefully next week when I'm not going up to the cottage I'll be able to get them in on time I apologize.  
To all the newcomers: welcome, and thank-you for your very kind words. I haven't seen any of my pre-summer reviewers, though... have I lost you? :( I hope to see you soon!  
So remember - in the interim between this chapter and the last, Siyana and Fran engaged in a name-day dalliance, suggested by Balthier. The details will be posted on my upcoming LJ account, so stay tuned for details!  
And now, without further ado, please enjoy chapter 25!

* * *

Ashe had declared a late start in the morning, so when we woke there was no rush. Fran was brushing her hair when I opened my eyes. She wore her stilettos and nothing else. I watched her swift, graceful movements with a sated desire. The simplicity of Fran's body without its omnipresent armour was beautiful, and it was something I wished I could see more.

"We should do that more often," I said. Fran paused and cocked her head. "A tempting offer," she intoned, "were I not wary of incurring the wrath of Balthier."

I sat up, chanting a quick Cure to ease the stiffness in my muscles. "His _ire_?"

She put down the brush and looked at me frankly.

"Do you mean to say you truly do not realize how deeply Balthier cares for you?"

I blinked. Surely Fran was jesting. "Balthier doesn't care for me. He knows I adore him, and he uses it to get what he wants. He'd much rather have Ashe, I'm sure."

Fran shook her head. " And if you continue to think that way, such a complex will make him pass right by and into Ashe's arms."

The thought nearly felled me. "You think so?"

She merely looked at me. After a moment of staring into her red eyes, I was forced to concede defeat.

"So… Balthier really wants me?" My voice was trembling.

Fran tossed the hair she'd been combing with solution over her shoulder. "If he did not, you would not be here now. Balthier is not one to content himself with anything he does not want in lieu of what he does. You have known that all along, but you have let your mind betray your heart. Balthier, it is true, is drawn to Ashe by curiosity, just as you are to Basch."

I looked sharply back at her, but she was focussed on the tiny portable mirror and her voice was neutral. "He would no more give you up for Ashe as you would give him up for Basch. Am I correct?"

I nodded. "You don't think I have betrayed his trust? It's just… Basch is so stable, so kind. He says what he means and means what he says. I like that about him, sometimes, when I feel like Balthier doesn't even know me. But I would never take him over Balthier. I won't be like that woman."

Fran nodded, satisfied. "As long as we are clear on that point. Hurting Balthier would be akin to harming me, and, as you have seen, it does not go well with those who harm me." She grinned, showing all her teeth. "But I do not believe that will be a problem with you. Whatever the dubious merits of your former profession, you are honest, as long as you do not let yourself get in the way."

I smiled. "I love him. So much."

Fran finished her ablutions and turned to me. "I know it," she said, caressing my cheek, "and Balthier does, also. Even if he does enjoy keeping you desperate. For myself, I believe it a mistake. You are very good, Siyana." My name in her mouth gave me the shivers.

The viera turned away again, setting her helmet in its accustomed place on her head. "Now, as reward for your services, you may use some of my _dralja_." She indicated the canteen of solution. When I hesitated, she gave her seductive chuckle, making me almost want to bed her again. "Worry not. It is no _dralja_ that makes my hair silver." Relieved, I gratefully accepted.

The _dralja_ made my hair much more manageable, and when brushed it was sleek and shiny. One of the ingredients in the solution was jasmine, which was why Fran's hair always smelled faintly of it. Seeing my eyes go hungry, she chuckled again and pulled the canteen out of my hands. "That is enough. Just this once," she said, and I sighed as I began to braid my hair. It hadn't been this easy to do since Balfonheim.

As Fran began to dress, curiosity overcame me and I gathered my courage before asking:

"Fran… could I try your shoes?"

The viera paused and looked at me. I'd taken her completely by surprise, something that didn't often happen. She raised an eyebrow.

"My… shoes?"

I nodded. "I've admired them for a long time, and now that we've the chance I… I'd like to try them. If that's all right."

She shrugged, and stepped out of the black leather stilettos, sitting down on the bedroll so as not to stand tiptoe. I slid into them, feeling straighter as I stood about three inches taller. Incredibly, Fran's feet were about the same size as mine. I wobbled a bit, but eventually found my balance. I looked down at my feet.

"Fran, why does one have that leather thing on it while the other doesn't?"

"I broke my right foot several years ago," the viera explained. "Now it is weaker than my left. I wear the weight to strengthen it."

I nodded. I could stand without trying now, and began to think that I could walk. I took one step, and tottered precariously, took another, and fell.

And Fran laughed, not her usual, refined chuckle, but the music of waterfalls. It was at that moment, when I lay sprawled on the floor of the tent and Fran on the bed laughed helplessly, that Balthier poked his head inside.

He took in the scene before him and grinned, more at the fact that anything could make Fran laugh than at my plight.

"The others are stirring and breakfast is cooking," he informed us. "You ladies might want to hurry up."

Fran had stopped laughing and her face was now completely controlled.

"We will be out directly," she assured him, pulling on her leather bodice. I rose from the floor and began to hunt for my own clothes where they'd been thrown in the fury of our lovemaking. Sparing one final smirk for me, Balthier departed.

"You should laugh more often," was all I said. Fran smiled.

After breakfast, we struck camp and headed east, touching the Crystal again for good luck as we passed. There was a bulwark beyond, called Hemera (we'd opened Bulwark Chronos as we'd entered), and entered the Gate of Fire.

I was back in my capacity of official cartographer, and focussed on keeping track of the maze-like corridors, speaking only to tell Ashe she'd tried that way already. What we were looking for no-one knew, though all agreed it should be some kind of exit.

Balthier sidled up to me as we wandered, smirking. "So, fancied Fran's shoes, eh?" he asked caustically. I shrugged, looking up to finish a wall. "I admired them, yes. But I could never wear them."

"I noticed." Balthier cleared his throat very falsely and I shook my head. He was teasing me, and as it didn't happen often, I was minded to indulge.

"Fran said you were very good and that she could even perform _njarme_ with you." His voice was more serious now. "I guess you were telling the truth."

We rounded a corner and I looked down to sketch in the two walls enclosing us. "Would you have recommended me if I wasn't?"

Balthier shrugged. "I suppose not. Fran's good, isn't she?" He indicated the still-healing scores on my back.

My hands slipped a little on the parchment. So they had had sex. That was one of my long-standing questions answered. I supposed I wasn't surprised. "Yes. Yes, she is."

"As good as me?" he asked. I strained to detect hints of jealousy, but there were none. I paused in my drawing, meeting his eyes.

"No one on this earth is as good as you are, Ffamran."

He grinned. "That's what I like to hear. I'm sorry I couldn't be in your bed on your name-day, but perhaps soon, tonight or tomorrow, I'll make it worth your while to warm mine."

My return grin was the mirror image of his. "I'd like that very much."

Fran paused, twitching her ears. "There it is."

We were walking along a section of platform that had no railing. It was rather unnerving, and Ashe in particular was walking far from the edge. Fran, fearless as always, walked right up to it.

Another paling appeared, expanding in the direction of the Great Crystal.

Used to the drill by now, the rest of us followed her. The bridge was longer this time – the large floating platform we were aiming for wasn't the end, as we'd previously expected, it merely terminated in empty space.

"Now what?" Vaan asked, but almost before the words were out of his mouth, we heard a sound.

From behind, a shape came flying out of the vaulted ceiling, landing on the walkway with a heavy crash. As it charged towards us, the paling dissolved from beneath its feet. Nearer now, I could perceive that it was a massive Aevis of some sort.

Fran drew her pole. "Tyrant," she said. "A guardian of the ancient city. We must defeat it to move onward."

Tyrant roared its defiance. Ashe had little time to mount an offensive.

"We'll have one attacking and two in support," she yelled as we scattered to avoid Tyrant's onslaught. Naturally, that meant Basch, Fran, and Penelo. They went into action as the rest of us hung back, chanting buffing spells like Protect and Haste to save the casters' MP. I sent a Dispel Tyrant's way, then started chanting Blizzaga when Fran told me it was weak against Ice, she being sensitive to such things.

Vaan ran in close and tried to Steal from the beast, but received a blow across the chest and little else for his trouble. As I tossed him a potion, he grimaced.

"Technicks don't work," he said. "There must be a field over the whole place."

I relayed the information to the others in a shout – not that we as a group used Technicks much anyway, but the chance was there.

This enemy was very tough, and it seemed like we'd been fighting for hours before Ashe switched herself in as a second hitter, sending Penelo out to take a break and regain MP.

I was running low, too, and when I wasn't casting I was running around trying to recharge (Charge, of course, being a Technick, didn't work).

Basch became afflicted by Sap, so I chanted Regen. After a while of this, Tyrant was at last in its death throes. Unfortunately, this was literally as well as figuratively, and our main fighters sometimes found themselves dangerously close to the edge of our small platform. Ashe was a delicate shade of puce as she fought, but she held her ground and I admired her for it.

Then, during a particularly ferocious attack of Tyrant's, she fell back, stumbled… _tipped_.

I ran to reach her, heedless of my own safety, for none of us mattered if Ashe had not survived. I ran faster than I ever had, but I just wasn't close enough.

Balthier was. His arm shot out, grasping Ashe by the wrist and pulling her back and into his arms.

It was a beautiful scene, and I daresay I would have appreciated it more had I not had a personal stake in the matter. Glad, at any rate, that Ashe was safe, I rushed to take up her slack on Tyrant, who was close to death. I expended all of my fury on the beast, and when it fell at last, I felt calm enough not to punch anyone.

When it fell, as with Daedalus, a Way Stone shimmered into being, this time in the centre of the platform.

Ashe was trembling as she approached the Stone; it was hard, sometimes, to remember that she was my age – circumstances made her seem much older.

We all fell in without having to be told, and Ashe touched the Stone. The habitual yank, and when the spots faded, we stood inside a vaulted, glittering chamber.

"Are we… _inside_ the Great Crystal?" I asked. Fran nodded. "It would seem so."

Balthier beside me stiffened, but said nothing. I drew in the circular platform, hesitating before naming it. Balthier looked over my shoulder.

"A Prama Vikaari," he read, looking at me and raising an eyebrow. "What an odd name. Did you make it up?"

I shook my head. "There's a system to it," I said, turning to a spare sheet of parchment and drawing a chart.

"Peak is at the top, obviously," I said, "then there's Kanbhru, Vikaari, Sirhu, Dhebon, Kabonii, Bhrum, Trahk, Jula, and Core. Those names correspond to the levels of the Crystal in relation to the core, which is at the centre. They also correlate to various prehistoric periods, possibly the ones they were formed in."

"Cambrian, Ordovician, Silurian, Devonian, Carboniferous, Permian, Triassic, and Jurassic," Balthier listed, nodding. "And the higher up, the earlier the period."

"Then there's Prama," I said, "which means Ground. After that there's Pis, Jilaam, and Phullam, which signifies distance from the Core- "

"And also pith, xylem, and phloem, for the interior parts of a plant," Balthier interjected, catching on.

"Yes," I said, warming up to the discussion, "and there's also the four cardinal directions: Udii, Avaa, Praa, and Pratii – North, South, East, and West, respectively. Next are the teleporter indicators, to show where the Way Stones will take us. A is up, Dha is down, and so on. 'A Vikaari' means to move up a layer, and 'Dha Vikaari', down a layer. So the place we're in, A Prama Vikaari, literally means 'Up Ground Layer'. That Teleport Stone will probably take us up."

Balthier studied my face. "You really like this kind of thing, don't you?"

I shrugged, feeling myself blush slightly. "I'm good at it. I like to know that I'm good at something other than the bedroom arts."

Balthier chuckled. "You must be good at sky pirating, too," he said, "else Blayne would never have kept you on. Don't be so quick to think so little of yourself, Siyana."

Hardly daring to believe that I'd deflected his attention from his original question, I accepted the compliment with grace and labelled the Way Stone 'VIII' after the numeral on its base.

"We do not want to go too far up," Fran said. "Legends of my people tell of a great and powerful being dwelling at the top of a Crystal – I can only assume they mean this one. We will not survive the upper levels."

"But what if Cid's gone up?" Vaan asked. "Shouldn't we make sure?" Fran shook her head.

"He would be as incapable of defeating the scion as we," she asserted.

"Scion?" Ashe echoed. "Do you mean to say there is an Esper here?"

Fran nodded. "At least one." The rest of the party looked about uneasily, as though they expected scions of darkness to come swarming down upon us. "This amount of Mist would have drawn them," Fran continued.

Ashe nodded. "Down it is. Should we take the left path, or the right?"

"Left," Vaan suggested. When we all looked at him, he shrugged, rubbing his nose. "Left is more down than right is." Which made a surprising amount of sense, considering the absurdity of the statement.

Ashe gave a rare smile. "Left, then," she said, turning to face the empty space in the railing. "Fran, if you would?"

"Of course." The viera, unperturbed, stepped off the platform, triggering another magick walkway which, incredibly, led down. Penelo clapped.

"Vaan! You were actually right!" she exclaimed. Vaan puffed up proudly – he'd be insufferable for hours now. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"Why should we not be?" Balthier asked. That sufficed to silence Vaan for a while, until we reached the next area, the melodiously named Kabonii Jilaam Avaa, or 'Carboniferous Xylem South'.

This platform featured a pair of Ose, which we defeated, and then Fran cast Float so we could clear the traps and grab the crystal treasure chest, which contained a Black Mask.

"This absorbs Dark magick and turns it into HP," Fran said as she stowed it in the packs. "It should come in quite handy."

The incredible slopes of the magickal walkways were slightly unnerving, as was the uncanny ability of the Ose to inflict just as many status ailments with a single blow as a pack of Vivian, and the platforms that seemed to be made of thin air until one stepped upon them and found them to be as solid as the walkways which led to them. Ashe, in particular, despised that last, though it did not take a fear of heights – we all did, I think, save Fran. Nothing seemed to unnerve Fran.

But I had experienced the fiery undercurrent that lay beneath that cool demeanour, and the memory was enough to make me want to bed her again; only the thought of Balthier's promise stayed me. What I'd said was the truth – he was the best. And seeing as it was the first time he'd made the offer, as opposed to myself, I would be a fool to squander it.

As long as we kept going down and not up, the way was not all that complicated, and all I had to draw was basic circles and lines, to show which walkways we took to get to what. It was not very time-consuming, and I found myself able to get in some fighting with the Golem, Ose, and occasional Reaper.

In Trahk Pis Praa, we went back to A Vikaari Bhrum (which went up, but we'd been there before and Gate Aries blocked our path in the other direction). Gate Pisces was gone, so we took that exit down to the next area, names Dha Vikaari Jula. We were now in the Jurassic period of the Crystal's growth and close to the Core.

"This Way Stone III should take us into the Core," Fran said, "judging by the pattern we have followed. Stones take us deeper, and there is only one place left to go."

Ashe had a determined look on her face – it was possible that this was where we would meet Cid, and all the secrets would be revealed. Was this where she would have to make the decision between denying the Stone and using it? By the way she approached the Stone, she had not made her decision yet, and suspected that she was not about to make it any time soon. But we could not afford to wait. We touched Way Stone III. When the twinkling lights faded, we were in the Crystal Core and confronted by a motherlode of nethicite.

It was an orb twice the height of a man and three times as wide, and emitted a mist so strong as to create currents around it. It was also impossible to reach. Balthier was looking at it with narrowed eyes, as though holding it to blame for his father's madness (as well he might). He stayed as far away from it as the confined platform allowed, and I wondered if he thought moving any closer would contaminate him. I went to his side and put my hand in his for reassurance.

"Remember your promise," he said, but I squeezed his hand. "You'll be fine."

Ashe, too, looked at the orb with a critical eye and remained silent. Penelo was the only one who spoke up.

"I've never_ seen _so much Mist. Are you all right?" she asked Fran. I thought it sweet that in the midst of all these people thinking only of their own wants, Penelo was worried about someone else.

"I'm fine," Fran replied, "thank-you." Only a discerning ear could detect the strain in her voice.

"Is that nethicite?" Ashe couldn't believe it.

"I wonder." Was that… _sarcasm _I heard in Fran's voice? But Ashe either didn't notice or disregarded it.

"With that much nethicite in one's grasp…" The princess' voice trailed off, considering the possibilities.

"…you could destroy all of Ivalice, if you wished it," Fran reminded her, finishing her sentence. Ashe looked down, troubled. Who in their right mind would want such power, I wondered. _But, _I thought, gazing on the node, _it is beautiful for all that._

"Cid's not here," Balthier said to the party at large. His ability to mask his true emotions never ceased to amaze me, but though his voice was light, his grip on my hand certainly wasn't. "We should move on. He may be deeper inside."

The party agreed and left the motherlode's cradle, though only reluctantly. On the next platform, we found a Crystal, which was a welcome discovery. After our trek through the Great Crystal, Ashe declared a short rest before continuing, and we sank down wearily as one.

Balthier inspected my map.

"Fine work," he complimented, looking it over. "You should be able to make some good gil off it at the Cartographers' Guild." He looked at me seriously. "Now tell the truth, Siyana. How did you know the names of the places?"

I swallowed hard. "You want the truth?" I was stalling and Balthier knew it. He waited. I sighed. The time had come.

"My father's name… was Taemon," I said. Balthier blinked. "He was the one who taught me cartography," I reminded him.

"Fitting," Balthier said slowly, "as he was also the cartographer for Cid on the journey to Giruvegan."

I nodded. "Yes. When your father… changed, he decided not to have any more to do with him or the gathering intrigue that was Archades and became a merchant after he met my mother.

"You're half-Archadian." It was not a question. "Why didn't you tell us?"

I shrugged. "For the same reason that the children and Basch still do not know that Cid is your father."

Balthier grimaced. "Fair enough." He looked at me again. "You could have at least told _me_, especially after the Capital."

I shook my head. "I don't cosider myself to be Archadian. I was sent there very young for my schooling, but I spent my life in Dalmasca, and it is her fortunes that my parents and I shared. Besides…" my voice trailed off. Balthier rolled his eyes.

"_That_ old thing. Did you really believe I'd still think that way, after everything else?"

I shrugged. In Archades, anyone who was not full blood was looked down upon as a half breed. "I just didn't want to make a big deal out of it. I was there for _you_. And I'd prefer it if the others didn't know."

He held his hand in mine to his heart. "Your secret is safe with me, Siyana."

The food that Basch had been preparing was ready by that point, so we partook. Over our brief meal, Balthier spoke.

"Well, and that explains your accent. I'd always thought it rather odd – Archadian pronunciation, but Dalmascan vocabulary. But there is a tale behind this, I'm sure."

So I told him – how my father, a merchant by this point, had been press-ganged into military service by the growing Archadian war effort, and met my mother in Dalmasca. He went AWOL and became a travelling merchant with her as his partner. Then they had me, and my first memories are of long and arduous journeys and the harsh, dusty road. Of my parents, I remember little save that they were much together and much in love, with little time or regard for me. This state of affairs continued thoughout my teenage years, even after my father's restlessness had faded and we'd settled into a slightly more domestic life. It was impossible for my father to go back to Archades after the war started, which is why he would rather sell me to Flamenca than take me back.

Balthier nodded when I'd finished. "I'm glad he didn't," he said. I blinked. It was the first time he'd mentioned our meeting. Fran's words came back to me. '_He would not content himself with anything he did not want…' _I smiled. "I am, too. Despite everything."

"All right, everyone," Ashe said. "Let's move."

Our route was fairly linear after that. We used Way Stone I to teleport out of the Great Crystal to a new location in Giruvegan: the Gate of Wind.

We walked forward and opened the gate named Bulwark Minas.

A being that seemed to be half-horse, half-woman appeared and began to attack as the bulwark closed behind us. I barely had time to put away the map and draw my pole before it was upon us.

"Shemhazai!" Fran called. "An Esper. Do not use elemental magicks – her weakness is random."

_What would we do without you, Fran, _I thought, stowing my pole and instead taking out the sword I carried, which was non-elemental, and blessing Basch's training. The rest of the party were likewise switching out their element-based weapons.

Shemhazai started with Haste, so I countered it with a quick Dispel while the others went on the offensive. Since I was not as confident with the sword as with the pole, I became the default spell caster, making sure none of our healers were Silenced by Shemhazai – it liked to cast that a lot – using the sword mainly for defence.

The Esper's durability was good, but not great, giving me a chance to step back and realize that this was my first Esper battle. When Shemhazai dropped to critical, she began to cast Silencega, which overwhelmed my capacity to Vox everyone at once. I quickly swallowed some Echo Herbs (grimacing at the bitter taste), but I could not cast fast enough, so Penelo joined me in tossing Herbs to the party, because Shemhazai was began to overpower us and we needed our healers the most. The Esper's regular attacks now inflicted Disease, so my capacities as caster expanded to Cleans before the afflicted ones could be healed.

Shemhazai fell at last, her spirit captured in a maroon crystal which shattered, giving us the ability to summon her. This was explained to me by Fran as Vaan (being the one hit the hardest by the Esper) made a pact with the creature, binding it to him in glyph.

"'Scion that is both horse and woman, wielding utter control over the souls that wander the underworld, created in opposition to the Martyr Igeyorhm, scion of light,'" Fran intoned, her voice sounding deeper, somehow, more powerful. "'Though she once served the gods as a guardian, when Ultima announced her rebellion, Shemhazai went to her, whispering of the gods' hidden weaknesses. She then descended upon the land without leave of the gods, and taught men of destruction and evil. For this, she was stricken down and bound.'"

Silence followed her pronouncement. Sometimes, Fran's knowledge was scary.

"So don't piss her off, Vaan." Balthier's voice lightened the morbid mood, and after a good Curing session, we proceeded south to another gate Bulwark Aeon. Beyond it was a Way Stone. This one was different than the others we'd seen, bearing a title, not a number, and an inscription. 'By this stone, reach ye the Round of the Chosen,' the Empyrean Way Stone read. 'By other means, return ye to this place.'

Ashe stepped forward. "This is it!" she said eagerly. "All will be answered beyond this Stone."

"Let us hope the answers will be worth the journey," Fran said. We all touched the Stone, were pulled into the magick brightness. And that was when everything changed.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry, another cliffie! Next up: the devious Occurian plot!


	26. Airships and Dreams

**Disclaimer: **You'd best find the disclaimer you need to correct me, then.

**A/N: **Hello, everyone! Welcome back, and thank-you for the lovely reviews I've recieved over the past week. Just two days ago, I beat the game for the first time! excited applause Vayne sure is one tough bastard! (In case anyone is curious, I had watched the cutscenes beforehand... yup. Youtube spoilers. But if it means I write better, it's okay, right? The ending movie still has the power to make my heart beat faster, no matter how many times I watch it... 15 sounds about right). Please enjoy the next chapter!  
As a side note: I'll answer your review here, Amy, since I think a lot of other readers were wondering: I address the issue of the partnership between Fran and Balthier in a special way. The way I see it, they're basically extensions of the other person. They are partners (and we've already been over the implications of sky pirate partners in previous chapters between Blayne and Siyana), they are sometimes lovers, and they are the closest of friends. Balthier is the freedom Fran has always been loning for, and Fran is the anchor Balthier needs to keep himself sane. So when Balthier wants to do something for Fran, it's not a matter of jealousy. Their relationship goes so far beyond such emotions that Balthier is honestly surprised when Siyana brings it up. "It's _Fran_" is not an evasion, it is the truth. And (if I may say so), I don't think Balthier is really worried about Siyana switching allegiances to Fran... he knows that Fran is not looking for a long-term relationship, and he knows that Siyana is fairly set in her preferences. The reason he was jealous of Basch is a different matter, one which will soon be discussed in great detail.  
I hope that answered your concerns! If not, feel free to let me know (all those lines, and I'm still not sure if I explained myself properly! And I call myself a writer.)

* * *

'Where is everyone?'

_Fear not, Princess of Dalmasca. We Occuria have chosen you, and you alone. Ashelia B'Nargan Dalmasca, we see your heart desires power, and power most holy shall we grant. Seek you the Sun-cryst, slumb'ring star. In tower on distant shore it dreams. The mother of all nethicite, the source of its unending power. The Dynast-King, his fallow shards, coarse trinkets cut from Sun-cryst's light._

'Such power exists?'

_In times that are long passed away, we sought to save this Ivalice, and chose Raithwall, the Dynast-King. He took the sword, and cut the Cryst. Three shards he took from its gilt grasp, and so became the Dynast-King. His words and deeds run through your veins. _

'That's why I was given it. The Sword of Kings.'

_The treaty held with kings of old is but a mem'ry, cold and still. With you we now shall treat anew, to cut a run for hist'ry's flow. Now take this sword, this Treaty-Blade, Occurian seal, mark of your worth. Cut deep the Cryst, and seize your shards. Weild Dynast-King's power. Destroy Venat!_

'But Venat – Venat is an Occurian. A being like you.'

_Venat is a heretic!_

_The nethicite is ours to give, to chosen bearer, or to none. The heretic trespassed and set the rose of knowledge in Man's hand. With imitations they profane. It is anathema to us. We give you now the Stone and task. Administer judgement. Destroy them all!_

'Judgement? Destroy them all? The Empire?'

_The Humes ever skew hist'ry's weave. With haste they move through too-short lives. Driven to err by base desires, t'ward waste and wasting on they run. Undying, we Occuria light the path for wayward sons of Man. Oft did we pass judgement on them so that Ivalice might endure. Eternal, we are hist'ry's stewards, to set the course, and keep it true. The chosen is our hand, our fist, to let live some and crush the rest. Princess, you have been chosen. Take revenge against those who stole your kingdom. Fulfill your role as saviour. Attain to your birthright!_

"Ashe! What's with these Occuria? What gives them the right to tell you what to do?" Vaan was indignant, Fran just as quick.

"Will you take revenge, as they ask?"

We crowded around the princess.

"We could not see them, but we heard the Occuria speak." Surrounded by white light, hearing mystic voices ring inside our heads, we had listened, helpless, as Ashe was manipulated. "They may be gods," Basch continued, "but we are the arbiters of our own destiny. Your Highness, I am against this." He shook his head. "The Empire must pay, but destruction?"

"Um." Penelo interrupted the flood of words that had been restrained by the Occuria's will, bringing us back to our original purpose here. "Does anyone know what happened to Doctor Cid? Wasn't he saying he'd be here?"

Basch looked around, distracted. "He should have arrived by now."

"And I should have realized by now." Balthier approached from behind me. His voice was the false-light tone I'd heard so many times before. "He's not coming."

We all turned to look at him. The mask was back in full force. I would have to work hard to get back through it again. "He laid out the bait and we bit. Remember what he said?" His voice was irritated, I thought, but the annoyance was internal. "He wanted Ashe to get the Stone. He wanted that all along. That's why he flaunted his nethicite, and reeled us in with his stories about Giruvegan, all to bring Ashe to the Occuria."

"But wait." Penelo frowned, thinking. "If we got a hold of the nethicite, wouldn't that be bad for the Empire?"

Balthier's face had a look that said, '_as if that would matter to Cid.'_ Aloud, he said, "maybe he wants to see what would happen when foes with nethicite collide? That'd be just like _Doctor_ Cid." The emphasis on his father's title was telling – the scientist who experimented with empires.

Ashe, who had been silent under the onslaught, seemed to come to a decision. "I will search out the Sun-cryst."

There was nothing more to say to that – no one had enough power or knowledge to gainsay her. The others left, eager to be gone from this strange place. Ashe, too, turned to go, but Balthier's voice stopped her. I stood at his side, staring as he did at one of the great carven thrones.

"'History is built by our hands.' That's his favourite line." He stood with his back to Ashe, voice contemplative, as if he'd forgotten we were here. "He'd never stand by and watch the Occuria's Stones shape things. So, he was talking to Venat all along." He turned, and his mask was in place, but his eyes were dark. "He wasn't mad at all then, was he?"

I fell into step beside him, but he did not want to talk. His mood was dangerous, and I couldn't tell if it was a good thing that his anger was directed only at himself. When he'd said _we_, what he'd really meant was _I_. _He'd _taken the bait. He'd trusted his own judgement in the matter of his father, that his own instincts would not lead him astray, and had failed. I could think of no words of comfort that he would hear.

We remained silent as we gathered around the Way Stone and left the Round of the Chosen behind. After the transport, no-one was quite ready to move on yet.

"'In tower on distant shore dreams the Sun-cryst,'" Basch quoted. He looked at Fran. "Do these words mean aught to you?" The viera shook her head. For once, the lore of the viera could not help us. Basch looked down, confounded. We would need a destination if we were going to find anything, much less the Sun-cryst. Vaan spoke up.

"Didn't Reddas say he was going to follow some 'other course'? Maybe he found out something that can help." I stared at him, amazed. Sometimes the boy was just idiotic enough to have sparks of sheer brilliance. But Balthier disagreed.

"I'd rather stay out of that sky pirate's debt, thank-you," he said. For some reason, when he said the title, there was an ironic cast to his voice which I couldn't explain.

"What's wrong with Reddas?" Vaan asked, voicing the thoughts of the party. Balthier turned on him. I hoped the boy was smart enough to realize that Balthier was in a bad mood and not to push it. "I mean," the boy continued, stammering now, "if you can't trust your own kind, who can you trust?" _Our kind?_ Obviously Vaan didn't realize the first thing about sky pirating: when your own kind consisted of thieves and bounty hunters, every man was an island.

"You an expert on pirating now, are you?" Luckily for Vaan, Balthier took the statement as a joke. Vaan put his arms behind his head, a habit of his. No one else seemed to catch the sarcasm in Balthier's voice.

It was enough. No one had any better ideas, and we needed information. The decision was made to return to Balfonheim.

The Way Stone before us (which was no longer the Empyrean Way Stone, but had been mysteriously reset) took us back to the Gate of Earth. Fran then used the second Teleport Stone she'd bought from Dyce to take us back to the port city.

I hadn't realized how much I'd missed the sea breeze until I felt it caressing my face yet again. I sighed. If I ever got a choice in the matter (and lived through this adventure), I would live by the sea.

Outside the stasis of Giruvegan, the setting sun cast its blood-red glow over the waves, turning the foaming tips pink. Time seemed to catch up to us, then, and we felt incredibly sleepy – I felt like I'd been fighting for days… and perhaps it was true.

We dragged ourselves to Saccio Lane and identified ourselves to the Watch. There was some confusion – we were not expected for another several days at least – but in the end we were granted admission. We were shown to our own rooms, and I fell into the soft, neatly made bed, the sound of the sea in my ears, and slept like the dead.

I woke late, dressed in the clothes put out for me, and made my way down to the salon for breakfast. As I embarked on a meal consisting entirely of fruit (that being one of the many things in which my diet was severely lacking), I listened as the others came to join me, their talk surrounding me in a pleasant jumble. No further speculation upon the Sun-cryst and Reddas could be made that had not already been brought to light, discussed, and exhausted, so we did not mention it. Instead, we exchanged plans for the day, argued over the order in which we would use the bath, and generally did our level best to forget circumstances. I smiled. I finally like I belonged somewhere, like I was part of something worthwhile. I even considered that f-word: _family._ For the people surrounding me had certainly treated me better than my own relations.

Just as we were finishing, an attendant appeared and told us that Reddas was indisposed, and would be so all morning, but that he would see us this afternoon with all haste. We replied that this would be perfectly satisfactory and the servant retired.

The party, in the end, resolved to give me first chance at the bath in return for my excellent work on the map, and insisted upon it whenever I tried to refuse. At last, my desire for cleanliness won out. The effect was not quite so dramatic as it had been the first time, but that is not to say it was not just as welcomed. Afterwards, as my hair dried, I sat at the desk in my room and wrote out a fair copy of my Giruvegan map, which I took to the Cartographers' Guild moogle at Sea Breeze Lane and sold for a staggering amount of gil (and made a friend for life: apparently the moogle in question was of no small standing within the Guild, but had been in danger of losing his station, which this recent acquisition would turn around. He wrung my hand repeatedly and said that if there was anything he could do to thank me, I should let him know, _kupo_!)

Free maps in hand, I went to Beruny's. My pole was still the best weapon on the market for me (there was the Ivory Pole, of course, but since it didn't have an elemental affiliation, it wasn't really an option). I did, however, upgrade my sword, and afterward, there being no new news on the Blayne front, I went to the Whitecap for a long-delayed drink.

As I stood at the bar waiting for my order, I scanned the tavern for an empty table, and my eyes lighted upon Balthier. He noticed me at the same time, and waved me over with a casual flick of his hand.

I sat down across from him, unsure of what to expect, but he was in a surprisingly good mood considering how I had seen him last.

"Cheers," he said, with a quirk of his mouth, and we clinked glasses. After taking a long sip, I looked at him questioningly. He grinned: a true smile, with no reservation or calculation behind it. The effect was like the sun breaking through endless clouds of rain. Balthier was genuinely happy, a thought which gave me a warm feeling of my own inside.

"Nono's brought the _Strahl_ from Rabanastre," he said, "all repaired, except for a few minor systems. I was just on my way to the Aerodrome when you came in. Would you like to come along?"

I nodded – how could I pass up the opportunity to work on one of Ivalice's most legendary airships?

Balthier drained his drink, and I mine, and we set off for Chivany Breakwater, and the _Strahl_. Balthier had a love for his ship that was profound, and it showed in his motions as he walked quicker than his usual jaunt through the lanes of the port.

"By the way," he said, as I worked to keep up with him, "have you sold that map yet?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Not the only copy, I trust?"

"Of course not. I made another one this morning."

"How much did it go for?"

I felt pride sweep over me and I grinned. "12500 gil."

Balthier actually stopped walking. "Congratulations. But why so much, might I ask?"

I shrugged. "He was desperate. I could have named any price I wanted. I had my eye on a Diamond Sword, so that's how much I asked for."

He nodded. "Fair enough. Good work."

We'd reached the Aerodrome. If Balthier had been alone, he would have run, I think. As it was, I was hard put to match his pace as we headed for the private hangars.

Fran was there awaiting us when we entered. "You arrive at last," she said, eyebrows raised. Balthier let the comment pass.

"I brought Siyana along," he said simply. "She wanted to know more about engine subsystems."

I blinked. It was true, I knew next to nothing about engine subsystems, and I was eager to learn all I could. But I hadn't said anything about it to Balthier.

Fran nodded, seeing all, saying nothing. "Welcome, Siyana. Take good care of her."

"I promise," I said, slipping off my jacket. I could understand Balthier's enthusiasm. It had been far too long since I had spent time in an airship.

Balthier handed me a wrench and a pair of pliers.

"Now, to work!" he said.

As we worked, we talked. Balthier told me of the _Strahl_ – how she had been comissioned by a wealthy nobleman and built by the Shipwrights' Guild of Archades. It had been on the verge of scrapping because the gentleman hadn't liked the cost of the dual-motion wing design, but Balthier had rescued it, taking it with him when he left the judges – and Archades – for good. I began to feel a curious affinity with the _Strahl_ – Balthier had saved us both.

"To think that any shipwright would destroy a ship this beautiful," I mused, tightening an ether nodule.

"Well, I've made extensive modifications," Balthier admitted, stripping a wire, "but yes, I couldn't bear to think of her consigned to the scrap heap. So I used my authority as a judge for the last time to get myself into the hangar, and that was the last of Ffamran." He paused. "The second-last time now, I suppose."

We did also talk about airship systems. Balthier showed me the mechanisms behind the wing design and how to perform routine maintenance on the _Strahl_'s cannons. The ship also had some unique subsystems that Balthier had designed himself, though he hadn't been able to impliment them until he'd met Fran and all her mechanical brilliance. I learned a great deal, and to this day I feel more connected to the _Strahl _than to any other airship, even the _Shera_, because the former's were the insides I first learned intimately.

It was nearing afternoon when we finished, tired, sweaty, covered in grease, and exhilerated. Balthier stretched and sighed with satisfaction.

"It's been too long, _Strahl_ my girl," he said, patting a bulkhead. He made no indication of having spoken, so I made no sign of having heard. "And now," Balthier said, as if nothing had happened, "time for a bath."

So for my second bath that morning, I was with Balthier. The _Strahl_'s tub was significantly smaller than Reddas', but at least it had one, fed from a reservoir of Water Crystals and Fire Stones ingeniously contrived.

"Only for port," Balthier informed me. "Otherwise the load is too heavy for flight."

The close quarters were conducive to many things besides bathing, and Balthier showed all the signs of wishing to partake in them. I caressed his back and planted a kiss on his lips. "We don't have enough time," I said regretfully. "Reddas wants to see us soon."

Balthier shrugged. "True enough. Tonight, then?"

I nodded. "Of course."

As we left the _Strahl_, Fran joined us. She had been working on the front of the ship while we had worked on the back, and she had been done first.

"So, Siyana, did you learn all you needed about engine subsystems?" The viera asked. I nodded, realizing or the first time that Balthier and I had spent several hours alone together without a suggestive glance or even thinking about sex… at least on my part. But we had made a date, and now… was I even daring to believe I was… good enough?

We met up with the rest of the party and were ushered into Reddas' presence with little ceremony. The pirate was issuing orders to the trio of Rikken, Elza, and Raz, and sounded quite irate.

"Ships in the water! Send fishing dories if need be, I care not. Glossair engines are as good to us as the sky to a fish. Leave what boats have foundered. I want souls saved, not driftwood!" The pirates ran out, hardly looking at us as they pushed past. Reddas rubbed his forehead.

"Our armada ran afoul of bad water in the Ridorana Cataract. All engines stopped asudden, becalmed. Trouble with Mist thick as death, it seems. Those seas are in jagd." He sighed. "I expected airship trouble, not a fleet foundering midst the waves." He looked to Ashe. "Tell me of what happened in Giruvegan. From the lay of your eyes, I measure all did not go well. Cid – was he false as I feared?"

"Yes." Ashe's voice betrayed only a portion of her emotions. "But we may have caught a glimpse of his true intent. We may now know what it is Cid searches for." She told Reddas of our journey and the discoveries we'd made. When she'd finished, the pirate sat back in his chair.

"So the deifacted nethicite was only a fragment? And these Occuria – I know not, and care to know even less."

Fran spoke for the first time. "If we strike this Sun-cryst with the Sword of Kings, no new Stone may be born. We say the Sun-cryst is the source of all nethicite's power. If we might break it, the Dusk Shard would be as a thing lifeless. As for the manufacted nethicite, who can say?"

"There is another way." I turned to Balthier, surprised that he would be the one to suggest it. "We use the Treaty-Blade to cut a new Stone from the Cryst, use that to fight the Dusk Shard and the manufacted stones."

"Would you like to know the best use of nethicite is?" Reddas replied. "Will or nill, I'll tell you. You pick it up, and throw it away."

Reddas struck me, in his words and deeds, as someone very frightened, though of what, I was not sure. Certainly the nethicite, but I could not as yet divine his connection with it.

Vaan turned to Balthier. "Either way, we gotta find this Sun-cryst first, right? Don't we?" Again, midst this dance of thrones and mighty concerns, Vaan's simplicity was the voice of reason. "Across the sea… In a tower on a distant shore… Reddas?" he looked to the pirate.

"Familiar words, Vaan." Reddas' voice was pensive. I must own, I was a little surprised. Not only had Vaan been right – again – but the pirate king seemed one of the least likely to have information on old forgotten legends that even Fran knew not. "I saw something of the sort written in some documents I chanced upon during my visit to Draklor," he continued. "The Naldoan Sea, the Ridorana Cataract, and the Pharos Lighthouse." He looked as us, eyes serious. "I sent my fleet to fish out the truth behind those words… and caught trouble."

"Then proof is ours," Basch said simply. "This lighthouse on the Naldoan Sea is the tower on the distant shore. The strong Mist that becalmed your ships is a grimmer, yet clearer sign than any we might hope for. The Sun-cryst is there."

"All well and good," Balthier spoke up pragmatically, "but how do we get there? Those seas are in jagd, as I recall."

"Try putting this one in your ship," Reddas said, by way of response. "'Tis a skystone made to resist jagd." He tossed it to Balthier, who caught it and inspected it carefully. I caught my breath at the value of the stone which Reddas had just casually given away. A skystone to resist jagd… the possibilities were endless! Nowhere would be out of reach. It was one of the reasons why the Archadian fleet was so feared and powerful. Not even jagd was safe.

"More spoils from the Draklor labs, is it?" Balthier's voice confirmed my thoughts. "Why not use it yourself?"

"That's just the thing." Reddas shrugged. "My ship's a Bhujerban model – it will not work. But should it fit the _Strahl_, she'll fly in jagd." He turned to Ashe, who had stood silent during the debate. "Lady Ashe. I would accompany your Highness… if you do not object."

"I am in your care," Ashe replied instantly. Balthier blinked, as surprised as I by the speed of Ashe's response, as well as her wording. Care implied weakness, something the princess could not abide. Mayhap the same instincts that led her not to question Reddas' motives led her to trust him, but I was unsure. It was not like Ashe to so readily accept anyone. "But, tell me one thing," Ashe continued, "why do so much for us?"

Reddas paused. When he spoke, his voice was laden with memory. "The Nabudis Deadlands."

Ashe's voice was hesitant, sympathetic. "Nabudis… was your home?"

Reddas did not look at her. "Nay, but a memory forever burned in my heart."

After such a pronouncement, there was not much left to say. It was late evening, and the party was still feeling the effects of our journey through Giruvegan. A somber mood prevailed upon us as we departed for supper and ate in silence, Balthier and Fran coming in late after installing the new skystone.

I broke the silence tentatively. "Will it work?" Balthier helped himself to some ghysahl.

"Fits like it was made for the ship," he said, though he did not sound like he considered this entirely good news. "We ran some quick tests and it looks all clear, but obviously there's no way to test it under jagd conditions until we leave tomorrow."

Ashe nodded, satisfied. "That will more than suffice." She stood to leave. "Everyone, get some rest. We've got an early start tomorrow morning." I studied my plate, determinedly not looking at Balthier. Whether or not he and I got any rest tonight remained to be seen.

For all that Balthier had been the last to arrive he was one of the first to leave, departing the salon with hardly a glance at me. It was all right. It wasn't needed. I waited a suitable amount of time lingering over my dinner, making sure that someone left in between (it happened to be Penelo). So eager was I that I did not even detour into my chamber, but went straight to Balthier's. When I knocked, he opened the door himself.

The room was ablaze with candlelight. It held a massive four-poster bed, spread with a coverlet of rich maroon velvet. For a moment, I had a dizzying flash of my boudoir in House Flamenca. There was one difference, however. Coiled innocently in the centre of the bed was a length of silken rope.

I looked at Balthier.

"Only that," he said gravely. "Only if you truly want to."

My blood throbbed in my veins. "Yes," I said, wrapping my arms around him. "Oh, yes."

He laughed and kissed me. "Let me take you out of your clothes first."

I did. We undressed one another slowly. After so much ripping and haste, it seemed almost odd to be taking our time. The shadows gathered in the corners of the room.

He trailed one tasselled end of the rope over my bare skin. "You're sure?"

I arched my back. "Ffamran…"

"Because I _will _make you beg," he breathed into my ear. There was a thrill in his speaking the words aloud, a thrill in my inarticulate reply. He knelt over me and stretched my arms above my head, pinning my shoulders between his knees. He kissed the insides of my wrists to taste my pulse as it raced. When he tied the first knot with a hard jerk, I gave a small cry. It was exciting, and strange, and wonderful. He glanced down at me.

"Go on," I whispered.

He'd learned to tie knots somewhere – perhaps on an Archadian troop transport ship – for his motions were expert as he lashed one wrist to the bedpost, threaded the rope around the other bedpost and lashed the other wrist. I was bound hard and tight, my arms and legs splayed wide. The feel of it when he'd finished was beautiful beyond words.

"…Very nice," he said, and I might have wept if I were not so excited.

He made love to me with his lips and tongue and hands, with the endless patience I'd sensed in him from the first. Again and again, he brought me near the crest of desire and abandoned me there. I jerked my hips in helpless frustration when he took his mouth away, hands above my bound wrists clenching and unclenching. And ah, gods! It felt so _good_!

"Ffamran…" I writhed, almost in tears. "_Please_!"

"Is this what you want?" Between my thighs, he sat back on his heels, caressing his erect shaft. The sight of it nearly undid me. "Tell me."

I did, ragged and gasping.

"All right," he said, as if it had been his idea all along.

He spread my thighs wider, pushing my knees toward my straining shoulders. No more teasing, now. He fit himself inside me, deeper than he'd ever gone. My loins rocked against his as I climaxed, over and over. I wanted it to last forever. He held off for what seemed like hours, stroking me long and slow, until something changed and a driving urgency seemed to overtake him. Deep, deeper… _deepest_. He buried himself in me, groaning, and spent his seed with a shudder that ran from the crown of his skull to the bast of his spine.

We lay there for a long time, panting. I felt fluid, languid, even the residual ache in my muscles pleasure of the most wonderful kind. I wanted to hold him, then, mold myself to his body. Still he did not move.

"Ffamran." I spoke into his ear. "You could untie me now."

"I'll try." He rolled off me, picking at knots grown tighter. "Gods!"

He laughed, and I laughed with him. It made my heart soar. He freed one wrist and kissed it. There were marks where the rope had been. "Better?"

"Yes." I flexed my arm, watching him work on the other wrist. "I don't want you to leave." The words came out before I could remember thinking them, and as soon as they had I wished I could take them back.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sephira," he murmured, taking the time to plant a kiss on the palm of my outstretched hand. "Not tonight, I promise you."

Now that this conversation had started, I didn't want to back out.

"I don't mean tonight."

He freed my other wrist. "Tell me."

"You." I tossed off the coils of rope, sat up, and shook my head impatiently. "Ffamran, you know the effect you have on women." I drew him down to me, wrapping my legs around his waist, illustrating my point. "I know you do, and you use it to your best advantage. If anyone could be an expert on that, it's me. And it's that exact confidence that's so attractive, that makes everyone want to be with you." I raked a hand through my hair, knowing I was treading on dangerous ground. "You're so…" I shook my head again, trying a different approach. "And the damnable thing is, I never wanted to be one of them. Not at first. You were the first one I'd decided to resist, exactly for that reason." I let out a breathy laugh – to this day it is my abiding proof that the gods have a sense of humour. "Good job I did of that. And now you smile at me, and it feels like my heart's on a string and it's being yanked out of my chest."

Balthier said nothing, just looked at me, and I could not decipher the look on his face. He did not return my embrace, but he did not push me away, either.

I did not apologize. It had been too long that we hadn't talked of this. It was obvious to me now that he cared for me, and that should have been enough, but I needed to hear it from his own lips, and I knew I wasn't going to.

He leaned down to kiss me. "All right." If he was intending to say something more, he did not. We made love one more, languorous and sweet and slow, altogether different from the last time, and just as nice. The best part, as always, was falling asleep together, curled beneath the warm coverlet. It felt so terribly good to feel my body nestled into his, soft and warm and naked, to hear his breathing slow and deepen into sleep. There was an intimacy to it beyond lovemaking.

I reflected, in the comfortable space between waking and dream, that I had just willingly put myself in a position to beg from Balthier – the one thing I had sworn never to do. And, gods! I had enjoyed it. And he had laughed, and smiled, and hadn't batted an eye when I'd called him Ffamran. I loved him, utterly and completely. And nothing that could happen would change that.

* * *

**A/N: **Next up: the Pharos Lighthouse! (however redundant the title might be - _Pharos_ means lighthouse in Latin.) Get ready to confront Cid!


	27. Betrayal

**Disclaimer: **Vayne has disclaimers enough.

**A/N: **No reviews from the last chapter (excepting one)? Are people just busy, or did you actually not like it? If not, you can tell me so - I can take it. I'd actually prefer if you'd let me know!  
Beware! The next few chapters are going to be really angsty, talky, and long. They are my trademark. Apologies to those who don't like that sort of thing, but it's going to happen anyway! ;)

* * *

The next morning, we woke at exactly the same time, and his sleep-darkened eyes were looking into mine as mine looked into his. The suddenness of the moment charged me with an emotion I couldn't understand, and I was filled with the fear that had taken me the previous night – that I was going to lose him.

I ignored the fear and placed a kiss on Balthier's lips. "Good morning, Ffamran," I said.

He made a sound deep in his throat and drew me nearer, returning my kiss tenfold in just the way that I loved, slow, sensuous, his lips smothering me. Even as he kissed me, he took me, fast and soft, yet somehow tender. As he released me and said 'Good morning' in return, and began to rise, I smiled sleepily, but perhaps not contentedly. Why had his kiss seemed so like a farewell?

Attributing it to the paranoia that gripped me, I rose too, and slipped on my robe.

It was just past dawn, and Ashe had said she wanted to leave soon after, if at all possible. We did not have to wait long before a knock on the door announced the arrival of an attendant.

This time, my clothes had been brought to Balthier's room directly, and the attendant said nothing about it as he set them on the bed and opened the shutters. He informed us that breakfast was ready in the salon, and the Lady Ashelia was waiting, and then departed.

Bemoaning slightly the fact that we had no time for a bath, we dressed quickly and went down to eat. Basch was there, as well as Ashe and Fran and, surprisingly, Penelo. Vaan arrived as we were eating, still yawning and rubbing sleep from his eyes, but it was Reddas who joined us last, just as we were finishing.

"My lady," he said to Ashe, "if you are prepared, I wait upon your leisure."

Ashe nodded. "Let us set out." The party stood, bolstered into action. Balthier faced Reddas down.

"I'll need co-ordinates. 'Tower on distant shore' won't fly the _Strahl_."

Reddas nodded, not rising to the bait. "You shall have them," he promised, as we began walking, "and whatever else you need." I wondered if the whole trip was going to be like this between them.

No matter the hour, Balfonheim was always bustling with activity, and dawn was no exception. Some second glances were made when the pirates saw their leader with us, but nothing was said as we reached the Aerodrome and left our flight plan with the woman at the Private Airships counter. Then it was a simple matter of boarding the _Strahl _and taking flight. We were on our way, and the unease that had occupied my subconscious for some time could not be farther away now that I was in the sky once more. I hadn't realized how much I had missed it.

Balthier (if it were possible) seemed ten times more handsome as he directed the _Strahl_, and Fran working beside him looked like they were born to be co-pilots. At last, he was flying his beloved ship again, and his joy at doing so almost equalled my joy at watching him do it.

Almost immediately after takeoff, Fran reported. "Approaching the Jagd Naldoa." Balthier nodded. "Here's our chance to test that skystone."

The guage on the control panel warned us that we were entering jagd. Balthier silenced it.

"Here we go… Now."

There was silence for a few seconds and then Balthier whistled. "Well, what do you know?" He turned to us. "Congratulations everyone, you are enjoying a very rare experience. We are now _flying_over jagd."

Vaan studied the sea beneath the window. "Doesn't look any different." But Penelo frowned. "It _feels_ different, doesn't it, Fran?"

The viera gave a rare smile. "Indeed. You sense our skystone nullifying the effects of the dense magicite."

The trip to Ridorana took a couple of hours, but I hardly noticed the time, spending as much of it looking at Balthier as out the window.

The Ridorana Cataract, as we approached it, was breathtakingly beautiful. Incredible waterfalls surrounded a lighthouse taller than the _Strahl_could fly, the effect it created making it seem as though it sat on the edge of the world. It was covered with greenery, rare and exotic trees (some of which I recognized from Highgarden Terrace), and the tower itself was an example of Galtean architecture on a grander scale than I'd seen it before, the building seemingly a single mass of stone, carved intricately over centuries.

As we disembarked, the first thing I noticed was the feel of the air, creating a prickling on my skin usually associated with the working of powerful magicks. The air smelled different, too – humid and slightly stuffy. The omnipresent roar of the waterfalls was the only sound that could be heard.

"A tower on distant shore," Fran said. "And about its peak, a piercing Mist."

"And in that Mist," Ashe replied, "the Sun-cryst waits."

Reddas' answer spoke for all. "My lady, your words still sound of doubt. Pray you reach your answer, ere we the Sun-cryst."

Ashe had been silent during the whole trip, withdrawn and thinking. "And, should I choose revenge, what then?"

Reddas was unsympathetic. "Then your woe shall be your own."

I wished I could help her, but the choice was hers alone to make. The question was a loaded one: perhaps there was no right answer.

Balthier was still standing bu the _Strahl_'s anchor. He stopped Vaan as he passed.

"Vaan. A word." The boy turned. "If something untoward should happen to me, you're taking the _Strahl_."

My heart clenched like a fist. My anxiety had been founded. If Balthier was even considering giving the _Strahl _to Vaan, something had to be amiss. He turned to follow the rest of the party, not saying another word. I could tell that he still had not made his peace with the decision. Vaan hurried to catch up.

"Untoward?" What's this about?"

Balthier didn't stop. "I am the leading man. Might need to do something heroic." Now I knew there was trouble. Balthier only mentioned being the 'leading man' when there was danger ahead. "Don't worry," Balthier called back to him, "I'll show you how to fly her."

Vaan and I exchanged a glance.

"Why didn't he give it to you?" he asked me. "I mean, you're an _actual _sky pirate, and aren't you… sort of… his girlfriend?"

I blinked, and then smiled. "I suppose you could call me that. Why? Don't you want it?"

"Well, yeah, it's just that…" He blushed and broke off, embarrassed. Then he shrugged. "It's not like anything's gonna happen to him anyway. He's too smart for that."

The boy sounded convinced, and I took some comfort in that, but I wished I could be as sure. Something told me all would not be well.

As before, in Archades, the presence of Reddas was an added dynamic that changed the way we interacted with each other. Given that our party was composed mostly of introspective and troubled adults who were wary of showing an unguarded moment to a friend, much less a stranger, there was very little of the playful banter that normally accompanied our escapades. Basch, normally a man of much action and few words, became almost sullen in his resolute silence – it was impossible for him to trust anyone travelling with us at first run. Ashe, overwhelmed by the choice that lay before her, spoke hardly at all, retreating deep into her heart. The enmity that I had sensed Balthier bore towards the other pirate necessitated the use of his mask, now grown so hard and deep that I could not penetrate it. He mostly stuck close to Ashe, and they spoke at fleeting intervals in hushed voices. No doubt Balthier was discussing the nethicite.

Reddas, seemingly ignorant of the effect his presence had on the party, fought on grimly, his dual swords a great and powerful aid, though he did have a tendency to run off and attack foes that we as a party were not ready to engage, thus bringing them into an already complicated fray. Such was the disposition of the party that no one said anything to him about it, though his back did receive some murderous glances.

For myself, I stuck close to Vaan and Penelo, who alone of the group continued their good-natured bickering and carryings-on regardless of the others. I kept a wary eye on Balthier, ready to step in if things got out of hand, either with Ashe, Reddas, or anyone else. By now, the party had been together long enough that we fell into a routine of fighting and healing quite naturally, without a word being spoken. The roar of the waterfalls accompanied us in every venture as we explored the ruins of the ancient city. As we did so, I came to realize that the architecture was not Galtean, as I had previously surmised – it predated the alliance by many thousands of years.

It also seemed to be heavily trapped – we had Float on more often than not, in our attempts to gain treasure crammed into corners.

We reached what seemed to be a massive colosseum, much damaged by fallen rocks and other debris, but still trapped and treasure-laden. Vaan kept running off down passageways off the main areas, for which he was scolded by Penelo, until once he brought back a map from an urn he'd discovered, and the complaints ceased.

Ashe passed the map to me, which initially was startling, but was less so upon further thought. Ashe did not want the added distraction of leading and keeping track of the map, instead preferring to stay back and talk with Balthier. Thus I, very reluctantly, took the lead, examining the map with a critical eye.

We left the Colosseum, climbing a flight of stairs in City of Other Days (with a treasure trove along the way), then into Path of Hidden Blessing, with yet more stairs (I was to discover these to be a recurring theme). The map itself was quite old and archaic, both in form and style, though luckily the path was linear and I was able to devote my whole attention to deciphering the code.

On the last landing, we found a Crystal. Touching it briefly for luck, we turned our faces to the looming tower of the Pharos.

We climbed some more stairs, stepping forward into the entry hall. I had not got far – perhaps halfway across – when sudden motion from both ahead and behind halted me. Vaan, who had been walking close behind, plowed into my back. "What is it?"

I didn't answer, instead staring at the plinth of the stairs, where something truly vile was stirring. Behind me, a barrier sprang into being, a sky-blue magickal field and rotating gold disk preventing retreat. We were trapped.

I watched in utter loathing and fascination as the dragon semblance, desiccated beyond life itself, raised its creaking, flaking limbs and gave voice (by what means I could not discern, for the chest was bared to the elements and I could see no lungs) to a dry, rattling roar.

We drew our weapons and waded into battle. Such was the depth of my unease at fighting such a creature that I chose to hang back and send Protect and Haste spells at the party (staples in any boss fight), as Reddas, along with Balthier, Basch, and Vaan fought on the front line. Ashe, Penelo, and Fran aided me in casting the buffs (with the added necessity of Dispel to remove the Haste that the dragon (named Hydro by Fran, which I found very ironic) had on itself), before falling into their regular roles of casting and healing. Hydro liked to cast Bio, and kept my hands full with Regen spells.

In all, the battle was going fairly smoothly, with the added power of Reddas a great aid in moving the fight along, but in an instant, everything changed, as often happens in battles.

Hydro drew itself up, an explosion erupting over its head, a seeming sun in the midst of fire. The effect was truly terrifying and I stumbled back in shock, suddenly feeling a massive headache. Through the waves of pain, I noted Vaan was running low on health, and tried chanting Cura.

My tongue felt heavy and awkward, the words not starting the usual well of energy filling me, my headache instead increasing to the point where I could barely see. Blindly, I tossed Vaan a potion and stumbled out of battle, blinking until the blurry shapes came into focus again. My head felt two sizes bigger and the Mist had never felt thinner. I saw the vague outline of Fran and directed myself towards her.

"Fran! What the hell just happened?"

"Fearga," the viera replied, sounding in the same difficulty. "The beast dissipates all of the Mist in a given area, depriving us of our Mist Charges."

I swore. "Fantastic." My sight began to return. "How are we for items?"

"Fine for now," Penelo shouted back, "but I think it's almost dead!"

My vision cleared, and as it did, I saw one of Reddas' swords flash out, catching Hydro by the snout. In a fit of bellowing rage, it charged.

Straight towards me.

Still bewildered and in pain from my headache, I got my weapon up, but before I could do anything else, a shot rang out, and Hydro swayed, collapsing at my feet like the corpse it was before turning to dust in the rays of the sun.

I smiled at Balthier in thanks, but his attention was focused elsewhere.

"You know better than that, _Reddas_," he said, the emphasis in his voice confusing me. "No more glory-seeking. You may be a guest, but if your presence here compromises the mission…" He left the threat unfinished. Reddas sheathed his blades, face serious. "Understood." He turned to me. "My apologies, miss."

I was already nursing a potion, trying to soothe my aching head. The other casters in the party were doing the same. "Apology accepted."

After taking a moment to recover, we moved forward to the massive gate that Hydro had been guarding. Ashe seemed dismayed by the immensity of the door, and Vaan went farther than she.

"Hey, Fran," he called. "There's something written on the wall."

"Engraved by someone, it seems," Fran said, as she approached the writing. Of course, she was the natural choice for any deciphering work. "Hm." She considered the wall. "It's quite old." She sounded like she was enjoying herself, a rarity that occurred only when she was involved in some obscure matter of lore or flying the _Strahl_. She read out the words as she translated them. "_Lo, seeker in days unborn, god-blade bearer. Know you, this tower challenges the sky. 'Ware the watcher, the ward of the Three waits, soul-hungry, unsated. He without power, want it not. He with power, trust it not. He with sight, heed it not. Rend illusion, cut the true path. In blood, Raithwall."_

I ran the name over in my mind. Raithwall. An ancient king's message, more riddles, and a cryptic warning. I had seen Reddas rubbing his head during the litany, and suppressed the urge to do the same.

"The Dynast-King?" Ashe took a hasty step forward in her surprise.

"Does it startle you?" Fran sounded amused. I wondered if it was due to the headache that her self-control had slipped so. "The Dynast-King took his sword from the Occuria. It was here he claimed the nethicite. He must have known he was not the last the Occuria would choose. He left this for you." While she spoke, she had been moving towards Ashe. Now, the viera passed her to stand just behind, and Ashe did not turn.

"Rend illusion. Cut the true path. Words of much mystery. Yet his blood runs through your veins. Perhaps it whispers to you the truth?"

I blinked, beginning to understand. Fran had a stake in Ashe's decision, as much as any of us. In her own ambiguous way, Fran was trying to drop a subtle hint. _Raithwall knew that what he did would not bring an end to the suffering of Ivalice. If you follow in his footsteps, this, too, will be your legacy._

Ashe approached the door. In a blast of blue magickal light, it opened, two massive weights on either side clearing the path. The door itself was merely an illusion. I could tell we were going to have lots of fun inside, if this was just the entrance.

Firming her resolve, Ashe walked inside, followed closely by Balthier, who seemed to have taken it upon himself to be closer attached to her than Basch, though I couldn't figure out why. Perhaps the nethicite's effect on Ashe troubled him.

We were in an arc-shaped passage dominated by a huge, water-filled central chamber. The roar here was the same as that of the waterfalls outside. The water was surging powerfully _up_, defying nature in its spiral towards the heavens. The party stared at it in astonishment and wonder.

"Behold," Fran said, "the cause of the cataract at Ridorana."

"…And the bad water that foundered my ships," Reddas added.

"How is it doing that?" Penelo asked, her eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"I sense strong magicks here," Fran said, "and a Mist more abundant than any I have yet encountered. It seems to be drawing the water, though for what purpose I cannot say."

"Regardless, we must reach the summit, yes?" Ashe prompted. "For there lies the Sun-cryst."

With great effort, we tore our eyes away from the unnatural column of water. There was a Way Stone there, but it didn't work yet, so we went left to the Crystal to refresh ourselves after the boss battle. I finally began to feel my headache fading away.

Many of the passages had fallen rocks blocking them, a testament to the tower's immense age. We followed the side of the curving walkway that was unblocked to find a pair of pillars, carven in a strange manner. Ancient letters hung in an effulgent glow.

'_Lo, seeker of heaven's path. Setting out, hearts of darkness shall light your way. Beyond vigil of the three houses stand, Threshold of Night and Watcher both.'_

A riddle indeed, but there were others. I could not tell whether the ambiguous messages were meant to aid us or taunt us. Ashe read both pillars carefully, then shook her head.

"It appears to be advice of some kind, but I can make heads nor tails of it. We should record the messages for now, and consider them later. Balthier, you've a fair hand. Can you do it?"

Balthier accepted the parchment and quill, and wrote down the first verses well and speedily. When he was finished, he nodded to Ashe that we could move on, but when she wasn't looking, he passed the parchment to me and followed her without a word. I was thrown by his strange behaviour, wondering if it was the things I'd said that morning.

Nevertheless, it now seemed to be my job to copy down the elusive hints, and I did so, once we reached a tall, oddly-carven structure which engravings proclaimed as the 'Altar of Night'. The so-called altar bore a timeworn inscription, which I copied diligently.

'_The beasts here dwelling oft possess black orbs. Herewith approach, by thine offering sealed way to open.'_

"This riddle, at least, seems plain enough," Ashe said, relief in her voice. "We must defeat foes in this area until we gain a black orb to place upon the altar."

"Fitting," Balthier said dryly, "for those who would be gods."

"We'll go south," Ashe said. "And remember, seek black orbs."

We did so, finding that the passages beyond the central ring were maze-like affairs. In light of this, we stuck to the inside hallway, fighting our way through Chimera Brain and Mistmare. We were rewarded by the discovery of a map urn down a short flight of stairs in a small courtyard.

The time in Ridorana that I'd spent deciphering the essentially linear map paid off, for this map was of the same style, but much more complex. I looked at the name of the area.

"Oh, wonderful," I said, mostly to myself. "We're in a labyrinth."

Ashe looked to me, to the map, and finally to me again. "You mean… you can understand this?"

I nodded. "The map of Ridorana was the same. The tongue is ours, but the script is one I have not seen before."

"It is the script of the peoples that inhabited this land before the time of the Galtean Alliance," Fran said. "Raithwall's message at the entrance was of this script. I did not know that you knew how to read it."

"I don't," I replied. "I have only a passing knowledge. Various letters, snatches of words, that's all."

"Would you teach me?" Ashe asked. "Perhaps we might learn together."

Startled by this overture, I quickly warmed to the suggestion. I had not had much occasion to converse with the princess, and I realized that I knew so very little about her. This was my opportunity to find out what she was really like.

"I'd like that," I said, and it was decided. Fran, as the only other who could read the old tongue, took the Pharos map, while I tutored Ashe on the Ridorana map as we walked.

I'd known of the princess' intelligence, and I found her an apt and eager pupil, jumping to conclusions it had taken me much longer to reach. Once I showed her how the letters that formed 'Ridorana' could be applied to other area names she was off, as together we grew in knowledge. When she was not in 'command mode', Ashe was quite pleasant to talk to, though she would never be chatty in the conventional sense.

"Look!" Vaan exclaimed, pointing, and the two of us looked up from the map, surprised to see the living, breathing world that existed not in lines on parchment. "Could that be it?"

From the body of the Mistmare came a tiny, shining sphere. The floating orb gave off a dark, eldritch glow.

"A black orb," Ashe said, reaching out her hand to take it. The object startled us all by emitting a loud noise when disturbed, glowing orange briefly before lying docile in Ashe's hand.

"Whoa," Vaan said.

Ashe closed her fist around the tiny sphere. "Let's go back," she said.

We did so, finding a second orb on the way. A third orb came just as we exited back into the Wellspring area. Curiously, all three were courtesy of Mistmares (though later on Vaan was to find one from a Chimera Brain).

When Ashe placed the orb on the altar, the triangular-shaped top glowed a dark, piercing blue, tiding from the pedestal and floating into the midst of the column of water. Then, in a streak of azure, it disappeared. Fran's ears twitched.

"One of the magick seals has broken," she said.

"_One _of them?" Ashe repeated. "How many are there?" Fran shook her head. "That, I cannot say."

Ashe sighed. "well, we need to find stairs," she said. "Now we look for other altars, also."

With our new objective in mind, we returned to the Labyrinth, exploring the myriad rooms, Fran planning out our route with all the efficiency of her race. We found the second altar in short order, and then Fran led us to some stairs. As we climbed, we passed a strange door with a V-shaped symbol glowing purple. There were three circles surrounding it, two of which were dark.

"I guess we need one more," Vaan said.

"The map marks this as the Threshold of Night," Fran said. "'_Beyond vigil of the three houses stand, Threshold of Night and Watcher both.'_"

"Threshold of Night, at least, is clear," Balthier said. "I don't like the sound of this 'Watcher', though."

"All will become clear in time," Ashe said.

"Perhaps too late," Balthier replied.

There were also a few carven pillars, and I broke off Ashe's lessons to copy them. The first time I did this, Ashe expressed her confusion.

"Had you not wanted the task, Balthier, you had only to say so."

An expression flitted from behind Balthier's mask too quickly for me to identify it. Guilt? Distaste? I could not be sure.

"How could I have done otherwise," he replied, "when Siyana begged me so for it? She kept on me for so long I had to give her the job."

"Oh, I see," Ashe said. I schooled my features to calm – it was the first time I could recall consciously having to keep a mask. I, of course, had said no such thing. I wondered why Balthier had lied. There had been no reason to, and while many may have had the opinion of Balthier being a lying scoundrel, I wasn't one of them.

We continued, regardless, down the stairs. Fran informed us that we were now in the northern Labyrinth and would have to navigate to the inner corridor to gain the most expedient way back to the Wellspring and the third altar of Night. We did so, Fran's ears twitching after the glowing cap disappeared from sight.

"The Seal of Night has lost its power," she announced.

"All right!" Vaan pumped his fist in the air. "Let's get back there!"

We all followed in short order. Ashe was frowning, having withdrawn from out discussion of the map.

"The nethicite troubles you?" I asked her quietly.

Ashe looked at me, long and slow. "If our places were exchanged, what would you do?"

An answer came to my tongue immediately, but I took the time to consider it carefully. I put myself in her place. My father had been killed treacherously, and my beloved husband. I'd been living with the rats in the sewers of my own city for two years, with my people believing me dead. I'd been betrayed by my own countrymen, fought all this way in pursuit of a dream that had never been closer to fulfillment, but which may or may not turn out to be just a dream. I'd been haunted by the ghost of my beloved, but this was more of a curse than a blessing, because his ambiguous prompting left me unsure of what to do. And there was more: the deaths of my people demanding justice, my desire for the retribution of the atrocities of the Empire burning strong.

All this pressed upon my mind, and I was sure it wasn't all. For a moment I couldn't think.

"I… don't know," I said honestly. Ashe sighed. "But," I continued, "perhaps some answers might be gleaned from the writings? They may be placed by false gods, but truth can oft be found in the most unlikely of places."

Ashe nodded. "Tell me of these writings." I studied my notes.

"'_Those who trespass here in avarice Will pay with tears,'_" I read. "And also, '_In your passing, learn of truth. In your passing, speak of truth.' _You must admit the truth to yourself, Ashe. No others need know. You have gained much wisdom on this journey. Just now, you learned the basics of an ancient tongue. Gods willing, you will continue to gain such wisdom. But in your heart of hearts, where there is no-one but yourself and your wants, you must always speak the truth, or you will be lost, and learn nothing. In that deep place, where you heed the opinions of none, ask yourself: do you trespass here in avarice?"

Ashe was silent for a long time. "There are no easy answers," she said at last.

I shrugged. "'Tis not an easy question." The princess paused again.

"My thanks, Siyana," she said. "You could rival Fran for sage advice."

I shook my head. "I will ever be a pupil."

We'd reached the Threshold of Night. There was writing on the door in the old text. Ashe squinted at it, a stygian glow illuminating the ancient words.

"'_Ahead the watcher waits,'" _she translated, "'_first of three. Ye without wisdom, return whence you came.'"_

The princess squared her shoulders, secure in the knowledge she'd gained, even if she were not any closer to a decision. She opened the door, and we all began to walk through.

There was a sensation like walking through a thick, ooze-like liquid, and then we stood at the bottom of a long hall in what looked like…

"A desert?" Vaan asked incredulously. The rest of the party were likewise looking about in confusion.

"Is this… the Estersand?" Penelo exclaimed. "We've been sent back, just like the message said!"

"Nay, we are still in the Pharos," Fran explained. "We have simply been transported to a parallel dimension."

"A _what!?_" It completely threw me, how the viera could relate such a startling piece of information so calmly.

"It is referred to as the Dune of Profaning Wind," Fran said, "and appears not on the map."

It was a testament to how much we had grown to rely on Fran that none of us questioned how she knew. We simply began, somewhat furtively, to explore.

"Hey," Vaan called, seemingly unperturbed by this odd reality. "Check out this rock!" He ran towards it.

With a flash of black light, we were at the bottom of the hill again. It startled everyone enough that we stood still and silent for several moments.

"I don't want to be here anymore," Penelo whimpered, turning and searching for the door – which no longer existed. The girl gave a cry of despair and sank to her knees in the sand. Concerned, we all went to comfort her, but what reassurance could we provide when we were all as unnerved as she?

Vaan sat down next to Penelo and out his arms around her shoulders.

"It's okay, Penelo," he said. "Nothing can hurt you. I won't do that again."

"You think?" Penelo said wryly, and I gave a small smile. A few words for Vaan, and she was back to her old self. She stood and nodded to the party.

"I'm sorry, everyone," she said. "We can go now."

After assuring her that it was no matter, we continued on to the very top of the hill.

This boulder stirred.

"I _really _don't like this place!" Penelo yelled as she drew her bow.

"Nor do I, Penelo," I agreed, holding my pole before her, "so let's beat this sucker and we can go back."

Penelo grinned, pulling the bowstring taut. "With pleasure."

I started by casting Dispel to eliminate the boss' Shell and Protect as our strongest fighters (plus Reddas) hammered away. Then I cast Haste and Protect on our group – standard procedure. I looked to Fran, who was casting her first Cure of the battle.

"So what's this one called, Fran?" I asked her, hoping to stump the seemingly omniscient viera.

"Pandaemonium," she replied without hesitation, sending the Cure on its way toward Reddas.

I blinked, astonished. "How do you _know_?' I exclaimed.

"It says so on its shell," she said. "'_I am Pandaemonium, crusher of worlds.'_ You would not be able to see the Mist-letters. It is weak against the Wind element."

I was given cause to wonder, not for the first time, whether Fran was just making this up. Shrugging the matter off, I started chanting Aeroga.

The battle was going smoothly, and we were about halfway through, when everything changed.

"There is a paling about the boss," Fran called, somehow managing to make herself heard above the sounds of battle without raising her voice. "It is immune to all attacks."

"Fall back and regroup!" Ashe ordered the ragged party. "We'll heal during the lull!"

We did so, sweating and panting. Vaan was limping – a quick diagnosis revealed he'd cracked at least two ribs in one of Pandaemonium's charges, though the boy had still fought on. He went up a little in my esteem. I pulled him away from the fight as he hissed through his teeth in pain. Once we were a safe distance away, I wasted no time in chanting a Curaga, watching some of the colour return to Vaan's cheeks. What he truly needed was some sleep, but he wasn't going to get it here. I started chanting another Curaga, painfully aware that my magick power was limited.

Vaan gave an inarticulate shout. I broke off chanting and whirled, pole up, feeling my arms take the brunt of Pandaemonium's charge as the magick residue seeped into my skin. I swore, knowing that I would quickly be overborne, and that Vaan was in no position to help me. My screaming arms protested the strain and I gritted my teeth, pushing with all my might.

Basch, Reddas, and Ashe entered my field of vision, and together the four of us managed to push the giant rocktoise back. Fran was busied attending to Penelo, who'd sprained her elbow, and Balthier, who had a concussion. I wanted to go to them, but there was Vaan to consider.

While the princess, her knight, and the pirate king distracted the rocktoise, I turned back to Vaan.

"Sorry about that," I murmured, and chanted another Curaga. I also made him drink a potion.

"Now rest here for a while," I said. "I'll be right back." I ran over to Fran, but she had the situation under control, so I returned to stay next to Vaan and keep him still while I tried to recoup some magick power. I kept an anxious eye on Balthier, but he was reviving and lucid under Fran's expert ministrations, and I felt bad for doubting the viera.

"How's Penelo?" Vaan managed, even thought I'd ordered him not to talk. I resisted the urge to stroke his hair as I replied, "she sprained her elbow, but she'll be fine. Fran has her well in hand."

Vaan lay back on the sand, satisfied.

"The paling's fallen!" Ashe called. I pumped a fist. "Yes!"

"Stay here," I told the boy, and I went back to punishing Pandaemonium.

After our victory, I felt a curious shimmering sensation, and found that we'd been teleported into the room behind the Threshold of Night. After an intensive curing session, Ashe split the party. Fran and I would aid and protect the wounded, while she, Basch, and Reddas (who, apart from a few bruises, were unharmed), would keep the monsters off our backs.

It was a good arrangement – I put an arm around Vaan's shoulders and helped him painfully to his feet while Ashe opened the door.

I felt terribly exposed and vulnerable as I guarded the limping Vaan back to the Crystal. At times our progress slowed nearly to a crawl, but in truth, we made good time. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ashe's touch lingering on Balthier's face – ostensibly concerned about his concussion. I frowned – the intimacy was something beyond friendly anxiety – but there was nothing I could do about it with Vaan on my arm.

We reached the Crystal, and all of us were refreshed and recharged by its cool power. I felt injuries healing that I had no idea I'd sustained.

Vaan stretched and took a deep breath.

"That's much better," the boy said. He grinned at me. "Thanks for your help, Siyana."

I shook my head. "It was nothing."

Penelo ran to Vaan and gave him an enormous hug. "I'm so glad you're better!" she exclaimed. "I was really worried…" The boy pried her off gently. "It's okay, Penelo. It's not like it's never happened before." On a journey of this nature, severe injuries were commonplace and one slip could cost you your life.

"I know, but…" Penelo's voice trailed off.

"Vaan, that is a truly despicable way to treat a lady when she expresses concern for you," Balthier admonished. The boy looked abashed and submitted to Penelo's examination. But I thought of all the times I'd expressed concern for him, and he had ignored me, or brushed it off. Truly, the pot was calling the kettle black – but I wasn't about to say anything.

No one else said anything either, and I knew better than to take that moment to inquire after Balthier's concussion. I knew he was all right – he'd touched the Crystal after all – but it was hard to curb the impulse.

"The Way Stone now operates," Fran said. "Let us move on."

We did so, arriving in a new area with two green-glowing doors. Fran glanced at the map. "It matters not which one we take," she said, and led us out the north one and around the corner, where another Carven Pillar rested. I copied down the inscription, as Ashe read it aloud. It seemed not to contain the usual admonition, but instructions.

"What do you make of it, Fran?" Ashe asked.

"We must defeat green-flame foes to operate the bridge mechanisms," the viera replied.

I daresay I was not the only one confused, but we had no time to sit and ponder.

We climbed some flights of stairs to where two enemies known as Brainpans spouted green flames.

"So these are what we must kill," Ashe mused. As soon as we had done so, we heard a piercing, otherworldly sound. I started, whirling to see blocks of some green substance falling into place behind me.

"A bridge," Fran said. The party eyed it with some suspicion.

"_More _insubstantial bridges?" Penelo exclaimed despairingly.

Fran stepped onto it, and the glowing green blocks flashed out and faded into stone.

"It is far from insubstantial," Fran said.

How many stairs we climbed – how many brainpans killed…? I cannot say. Every floor, every step, increased our weariness. The second watcher, Slyt, was confronted and beaten using an ingenious combination of Oil and Firaga. And still we went on.

Everything near this time fades into a blur in my memory, both because of the endless repetition of the levels, and because of what came after.

To this day, I do not know what possessed me to wander behind the Fool's Façade while everyone was puzzling over a column – perhaps treasure, perhaps fate – it matters not. All I can remember is turning a corner and seeing Ashe and Balthier, wrapped around each other, locked mouth-to-mouth.

For a while, I couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Ashe's back was to me, and Balthier's eyes were closed. The kiss was so intense, so profound, that I had a nearly out-of-body experience and I could imagine that I was the one being kissed; yet I was also the one kissing: seeing Balthier's lips move and knowing intimately how it would feel, having experienced it so many times myself. But then I was back, and filled with a complete, numb emptiness that could never be filled. There was a buzz in my ears and my brain seemed put on hold. Whether time physically slowed or the kiss went on for an unbearably long time, I cannot say. But quite suddenly feeling returned to my legs and I backed slowly out of the alcove. Balthier and Ashe, absorbed in each other, still kissing, had noticed nothing.

_So that's it, _I thought vaguely. _That's the answer. I wasn't good enough. Now he's with someone better._

And thus it was that no thought crossed my mind of trying to win him back. I remember wondering, vaguely, why the earth kept turning. Why the world kept going. I didn't belong here anymore. I didn't belong anywhere anymore. Through the mist that veiled my sight, I saw before me the Wellspring, the Cryst-drawn waters. That would be sufficiently elevated. And then I could fly, truly fly, in the only direction that really mattered…

"Siyana!" Arms were on my shoulders, pulling me back. I realized my foot was set on the railing. I whirled to see Basch holding me fast, concern in his eyes. "What are you doing?"

I blinked, feeling like I'd been doused by a bucket of cold water.

"I – I… don't know." Even to my own ears, my voice sounded distant. The concern in his eyes deepened. "Are you all right? What happened?"

The desire was there: the need to collapse into him, to tell him everything, to display my weakened self and lose myself in his caring. The thought of a dalliance with him flitted across my mind, to fill the emptiness inside.

"Nothing. Everything is fine." Basch gave me a disbelieving look. "Truly?" He asked. I nodded.

"I don't believe you."

"Basch, please." My defenses were crumbling. If he persisted, I might do that which I fought against.

The knight gave me a long, deep look worthy of Fran. Had he heard the desperation in my voice?

He stepped back and released me. "All right," he said. "But if you ever want to talk…"

I shook my head. "Thank-you, but there's nothing to talk about."

Basch still wore his incredulous look. "Right."

I couldn't meet Fran's eyes when we rejoined the party, fearing what I would see in them. I was still finding it difficult to breathe, or think, or see anything but how Balthier's face had looked above Ashe's shoulder. Had he looked that way when he kissed me? I could not remember.

It seemed like ages before Ashe and Balthier emerged. They gave no hint of their previous activities, but Ashe's eyes were brighter, and there was almost a smugness and self-contentedness in Balthier's sauntering walk that put me in mind of a cat. It also, unfortunately, did nothing to lessen my anguished feelings of love for him. Perhaps it would have been better for me if they had.

I recalled my words to Fran, not even a week past, and for whatever damnable reason they still held true now. I would not take Basch over Balthier, no matter how much I might want to – the hold Balthier had over my heart was that strong.

I was able to perceive something different in the air among the party. It was a while before I realized that there had been a constant tension between Ashe and Balthier that had not been noticeable until it eased. Something had softened in Ashe, and Balthier… he seemed more self-satisfied than I had ever seen him. Had he been pursuing her all this time, with me waiting in the wings, and I had just witnessed his triumph?

As the stairs went on in a seemingly never-ending ascent, my body was detatched from my mind as I copied down message after message written on carven pillars.

I remember, vaguely, some more altars, and the party saying something about a 'sacrifice' – they asked me my opinion; I said something noncommittal. The party (with the exception of Ashe and Balthier) shot me concerned looks at intervals to see me trailing behind, not talking to anyone, but I ignored them. Truly, it was all I could do to keep walking, keeping my mind on my duty and my face neutral. I was still so stricken that no tears came – blessedly, with the halting of my thoughts came a (temporary) halting of my emotions. When I think back on that time, as I wandered with hardly a thought in my head, detached from the world and from my body, I begin to realize the plight of the many zombies we put out of their misery along the way. I was very nearly one of them.

By the 64th floor, there was not one of us that was not panting, practically dragging themselves along on their hands and knees (unless it was Fran, but even for the stoic viera, the strain was so great that her face was no longer neutral), when at last we found a Crystal.

"That's it," Balthier snapped at Ashe. "We're making camp, or you'll have a mutiny on your hands." He had been much more comfortable around Ashe lately (for obvious reasons), and Ashe, far from snapping back, seemed to glow under his attention, putting me in mind of myself.

"All right," she agreed. "We rest here tonight."

The party sank down with varying groans of relief. No one could be bothered to start a fire or cook anything, so we ate a cold meal and collapsed into our bedrolls, lacking even the energy to put up our tents. I removed myself from the others, ostensibly to relieve myself, sufficiently far away that they wouldn't see me and close up against the Wellspring so that they wouldn't hear, sinking down to bury my face in my hands, finally loosing my emotions and weeping bitter tears in a torrent to rival that above my head. My body sought to turn itself inside out as sobs wracked me. Through my mind flashed every gesture, every look, of his. '_Oh, Balthier,'_ I thought – it was the first conscious thought I'd had since I'd seen the kiss. '_Why did you rescue me only to abandon me here in this godsforsaken place?'_ Not an entirely fair observation, in hindsight, since I'd gotten myself invited along, but at the time I was not thinking rationally.

I wept, and wept, tears welling up endlessly from somewhere deep and secret inside me, the place that was created by Balthier's kindness, isolated from the rest of my inferiority – the part that was dying within me. It was not simply the kiss – gods, it wasn't just that. It was the look on Balthier's face that I had seen over Ashe's shoulder that had so stricken me. I had never seen that expression on his face before.

I wept all the tears that I had not shed through the long months of my involvement with Balthier – all his slights, real or imagined, his coldness and his cruelty that always went hand-in-hand with his warmth and his kindness. I wept for my longing, now never to be satisfied, to hear those three little words that I had so desperately sought from his lips.

I wept past the point of exhaustion, past the point where it physically hurt to weep so much, past the point where I cared about either. At last, I wept until the tears would no longer come; even then I did not stop, but shook with dry sobs for a while longer. When, finally, I had wept myself out, I turned and was violently and efficiently sick over the railing. When I was done, I felt nothing but a great emptiness, having found no solace in my ordeal.

I wasn't ready to go back to camp – I leaned back against a pillar and closed my eyes, regulating my breathing until the quivers of exertion ceased. Into this void, oddly, came thoughts of my parents. I wondered where they were now, and what they might have said to see me, like this, in the Undying tower of the Pharos. _I don't blame you for anything,_ I assured their visages in my mind, if they even cared.

A whisper-thin sound caused me to open my swollen eyes a crack. Fran sank down beside me, cupping my chin with her hand.

"So you would weep alone?" she admonished gently. I tried to reply, but the tears had taken my voice, and Fran was not looking for a response. She drew my head down to her breast and I rested there, enveloped by her almost mothering presence. It was the first time I could remember being coddled in such a way, and its influence was profoundly wholesome, especially at the hands of one who knew intimately what it was to live life in Balthier's sun.

I don't know how long we sat there – Fran said nothing more and I couldn't speak. There was no obligation to fill the silence with talk as there would be with others – her presence was an overwhelming comfort that I was finally able to admit that I needed.

* * *

**A/N: **Poor Siyana! I am so cruel to my characters! No kidding, they probably all hate me now. Stick with it! Next up: the truth of the nethicite and battle with Cid!


	28. The Pharos

**Disclaimer: **Disclaimer, it is I!

**A/N: **Here it is, the weekly update. Many thanks to those who reviewed last week. Before we go any further I would like to stress that it was not my intention to make anyone hate Ashe or BAlthier or anyone else. This is simply the way I knew the relationship had to go, given hints in the actual game, and as one reviewer rightly pointed out, Balthier was getting far too comfortable in the relationship. Please just stick with the story - we're not done yet!

That said, I would like to encourage all my readers to check out my LJ account. It's under the same name as my pen name, and though it doesn't have any story on it yet, I have posted a playlist of sorts containing songs that I feel represent my story. Each time I update, I will be adding songs to the playlist. If that sounds like your thing, go check it out!

* * *

I opened my eyes to the darkness of a tent – the effect was disorienting, since I hadn't realized I had fallen asleep. I was further bewildered when someone shifted near me – due to the silence, I'd thought the tent empty.

"Fran?" I rasped, wondering what I would do if it wasn't.

"Yes, Siyana?" Luck was with me – her calming tones washed over me and I relaxed, comforted.

"What time is it?" I came up with the question on the spot.

"The others have yet to awaken." I raised my head, my emotions strangely neutral. "Do you ever sleep?"

A smile flashed in the dimness – she was so motionless it was the only part of her I could see. "I have not your need for it, true enough." For some reason, I felt not an ounce of curiosity or satisfaction, considering it had been a question that had been plaguing me for some time.

"Oh. I see."

A movement – she propped herself up on one elbow. "You do not sound as surprised as you ought."

Damn. I'd forgotten she was so perceptive.

"On the contrary, I find it very interesting."

There was a sceptical silence – she wasn't buying it.

"You do not have to talk about it."

I was torn. Part of me wanted to shove it away from me, far away, where it couldn't hurt me. But I knew that would only make it fester. And truly, was I surprised? I'd always known that I wasn't good enough, yet I'd selfishly expected him to stay around me, to the expense of all others. It wasn't fair. But on the other hand, I wasn't sure if I could find the words to explain the complexity of my emotions.

Fran correctly interpreted my silence. "I thought not. Do not let it trouble you."

The sounds of the rest of the party stirring punctuated the fresh silence. I was glad I would not have to speak any more – Fran was easier to talk to than most, but I had outgrown my need for interaction.

Outside, I saw Balthier smiling slightly, playing with Ashe's hair absentmindedly as she studied the map. She swatted him away good-naturedly. My heart burned and I had to look away. I had tried to win him back once – it hadn't worked. If I tried again, the results would no doubt be the same. I was no good for Balthier. It felt like it would kill me to do it, but I had to let him go.

So much more easily said than done. I walked behind the rest of the party, trying to empty my mind of everything. But I could not return to my former numbness again. We fought a creature called Fenrir, but my body worked on its own as it brandished its pole. I refused to allow memories of Balthier to enter my head, but neither was I allowing myself to forget him. They happened; I had to believe that. All I can remember of the battle was that the inscription on the door read: '_Ye without strength, return whence ye came.'_ I wondered, vaguely, if I would be sent back where I belonged for my weakness. But I wasn't.

After the battle, Reddas fell back to walk by my side. He said nothing, which was a good thing, because I wasn't sure if I trusted my voice. Nevertheless, his presence was a solid constant next to me through the endless floors. We watched each other's backs without a word being spoken. He, like Fran, seemed content to remain in silence while the rest of the party capered ahead.

Finally, though, my throat started working properly again. I still had trouble breathing.

"Reddas…" My voice was rusty. I coughed and tried again. "Reddas, if you loved someone, you'd want them to be happy, right?"

His face showed no hint of his thoughts, though he had just discovered the reason behind my brooding silences.

"Yes," he answered gravely. "I would want that above all else – as long as I was certain it was the right thing for them."

I thought about that for a minute, choosing my next words with care.

"So, hypothetically, if someone who had an extreme aversion to responsibility were to be attracted to someone who had a lot of responsibilities, would they be happy, do you think?"

Reddas' expression never changed. "Well, if they loved each other enough, mayhap they would find a way to make it work. I'm sure Balthier has thought this through."

_Of course he has, _I thought bitterly. _Look where his impulsiveness got him. _But all I said was, "We were speaking of a hypothetical case." My voice was cold.

He nodded once. "Indeed we were." It was impossible to tell if he was serious.

"Well?" I prompted.

He pondered a moment. "I suppose it would depend on how much the… other person thought that their happiness would affect the other's."

I laughed then – it was a humourless, awkward sound that hurt in strange ways. Reddas' expression turned to one of concern.

"Are you all right?" he asked. I couldn't answer.

"That's all I needed to know," I replied instead. "Thank-you so much for your help." I turned to move ahead of him.

"Wait, please." His hand was on my arm, restraining me. I whirled, glaring at him. His searching eyes took in my expression calmly.

"Basch," he said, voice no longer than the tone he'd used in our conversation. Though I hadn't seen him, Basch suddenly appeared behind Reddas' shoulder.

"Take care of her," Reddas ordered, his eyes never leaving my face. "Be very gentle." He nodded once to me, and then he was gone, left to follow the others. Basch took my hand in his, and part of me was repulsed by the warmth. This hand was wrong. But it was a good hand.

"I spoke to Fran," he said, as we started walking again. I grimaced. Of course he had. Fran knew everything.

"I could kill him." I looked up in shock. His jaw was clenched, eyes hard. He meant what he said. "Reddas could take up the slack," he defended himself, misreading my expression. I cringed instinctively away from the pain of that scenario.

"No, Basch!" I whispered, horrified. "Don't say anything to him, please! He just did what he had to do to be happy."

The fury in his face blazed.

"What he did was _wrong_, Siyana," he said. "How can you still defend him?"

"Would you do that to Ashe?" I challenged, the pain of the answer to his question making me cruel. It was unfair – I knew it. But I was far from taking it back.

He winced. "No. You're right. Ashe is my first priority. But really, to just abandon you like this…" he glanced sidelong at Balthier, bending to whisper intimately into the princess' ear. I closed my eyes, wishing that I could recall the numbness that had kept me safe that first day. I could have used it.

"I don't want to talk about it." My voice brooked no argument, and Basch didn't try. He squeezed my hand gently. I instantly regretted my words, leading me to wonder if Basch was using some form of reverse psychology. I sighed. I needed a distraction from my thoughts.

"Have you ever… felt this?" I asked, mortified at how I had phrased the question. Instead of laughing, though, as he ought, Basch seemed to take my question seriously.

"Twice, for me," he responded after a moment. "One stronger than the other." He shot an involuntary glance at me, and a faint twinge of guilt lodged itself in my stomach. Not enough to change my feelings – not nearly enough.

"What happened," I swallowed, "to the first one?"

Basch's face grew dark, and his hand clenched into a fist inside mine. The silence stretched on for a while – it was plain that he did not intend to answer.

"I suppose I can guess," I said at last.

His gaze lightened as he looked at me again, though his fist did not unclench. "Are your other choices truly so abhorrent, Siyana?" he asked, frankness in his tone.

The broken pieces of my heart rippled awkwardly.

"No, no, Basch. That's not it at all. I love you." But the admission, the word, twisted my expression on the way out, ruining it.

"But you love him more. Still." His voice was dry, sarcastic.

The hand that was not attached to his fist curled around my chest, as if I could soothe my aching heart like any other muscle. I nodded, compelled to be honest.

Basch exhaled sharply. "Well, I suppose I set myself up for that one." He tugged lightly, curiously, at my arm. His expression morphed into shocked surprise when he couldn't budge it easily, and gave up. His hand, no longer in a fist, squeezed mine gently.

"It's all right, Siyana, it's all right. I won't bring it up again. I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "It's not your fault," I gasped, feeling suddenly faint. Basch's expression darkened again, and I realized he had misinterpreted my words. It was _my_ fault, not Basch's or even Balthier's. My fault for being so deluded… so demented.

But I had no time to correct him, for we were about to enter a lift, and I had to use the time to pull myself together.

There was something that was slightly off about our ascent; if I had been in any fit state to notice. Surrounded by a curtain of water, we flashed past the levels. Basch still held my hand, and the comfort that the gesture provided outweighed my desire to ask him to stop. I couldn't look at Balthier or Ashe. I couldn't look at anyone. I simply glared at the magicked water, willing it to make sense of things. Could I get into a relationship with Basch in order to save my sanity, all the while knowing that it was only a shadow of a thought that I had left to give? Could I be selfish enough to force that on Basch, to ask him to take it, even though I had once been capable of so much more? For that was what Basch deserved: nothing less than my full heart, my full devotion. I didn't have that any longer. Should he be contented with less?

Quite abruptly, the lift itself put an end to my musings. It shuddered to a halt, jolting everyone into silence.

"What's going on?" Vaan whispered, and Penelo hushed him. Basch had his head cocked, listening. The water thundered deafeningly to fill the space.

"I hear nothing," Basch admitted at last, stepping forward to investigate. The curtain splashed around us as we passed through it, though we came out dry. We all stood looking around at the empty, circular platform.

Then, through the other side of the curtain of water leapt a great and terrible being. It was sufficient to shake me out of my stupor and I tensed for a fight, eyes wide.

"It is Hashmal," Fran called in a piercing voice over the ring of weapons. "An Esper, the Bringer of Order. He is an Earth elemental, so we must use Float to negate his attacks."

Float… that much I could do. I began the chant, the magick coursing through my body in an invigorating way. Each party member left the ground to hover on a cushion of air.

Of that battle I cannot tell much, save that it was hard. Not in the sense of being long and gruelling (though it certainly was that), but more because I had the added worry of not getting too close to either Ashe or Balthier, for their proximity would break both my will and my mind. If ever a Cure or some kind of support was needed, Fran took over for me, doing my duties as well as her own. I felt terrible about that, but mostly an overwhelming gratitude.

I cast Haste and carried Vaccines to the rest of the party, but my pole stayed sheathed on my back. I didn't know if I would be able to fight – I had a brief, terrible thought that perhaps I was no longer strong enough.

So it continued until we reached the part of the battle that we all knew well – the point past which either one side or the other must give out. The smell of victory was in the air, but Hashmal had one last trick up his sleeve. All the Mist from the battlefield gathered to him like a cloud and was released in an explosion of rock. The ground beneath us quaked and heaved viciously.

I had been sporadically re-casting Float as time went on, and its effects began to fade, but since I was always the first one it affected, it left me first, too.

That was why, when the Quakeja attack slammed into the party, everyone was safe… except for me.

Many things happened in quick succession. Float failed from beneath me, and my landing on the ground was soft and gentle. The impact as I collapsed, however, was surprisingly hard.

The stones bucked, throwing me onto my side. A massive boulder came down on my out flung arm. I heard a sickening snap that turned my stomach through the dust and the noise, and wondered vaguely what it could be. But then I felt it, and my scream of agony carried over the battlefield. I twisted, reaching for my arm, and he was there.

"Gods damn it, Siyana!" His face was very white. Through the nausea and dizziness I thought perhaps the creature had unnerved him. I couldn't quite remember why I didn't want him near me. Maybe I _had _lost my mind. The fog that clouded my senses and the chaos all around us made it simple to pretend that he was worried about me, so I did. It was never more than a charade, of course – even when pretending he wanted me he'd never been _worried_ about me.

He knelt over me, having dragged me as far away from the battle as he could on the tiny platform. Each tiny movement he'd made had caused a yell of pain to come through my lips. He used the materials in the first aid pack to fashion a makeshift splint. Of course, he would be the one member of the party most adept at First Aid (Basch being the second – the Technick was required in the army). His examination caused me no pain, because he was touching me again.

"I'm going to have to set the bone," he said, his methodical, dulcet voice coming to me beneath the sounds of battle. "Cure can only do so much. At least it's a clean break." His jaw was clenched, his face strained. I tried to focus on that, instead of the pain – the meaningless words, the beautiful face. But then something shifted in my broken arm and I heard a piecing scream. It was only when he winced that I realized it was mine.

"It's over now, Siyana, shh," he muttered as he bandaged the splint around my forearm. As soon as my breathing didn't jostle it, I felt better at once. He whispered a Curaga and some of the burning sensation faded into coolness.

"How does that feel?" he asked.

"Better," I sighed. "Thank-you, Balthier."

At the same time, there was a deep, growling roar that hurt my ears and made the stones beneath us throb. Hashmal fell at last, his spirit's essence captured in a large golden crystal which shattered, giving us access to summoning him. Basch, who had led the battle, made a pact with the Esper, and then they all crowded around me.

"Are you all right?" The anxious chorus surrounded me, but I was too dazed to respond to the numerous queries. Balthier's face was removed. I opened my mouth to protest but couldn't form the words.

"Can you stand?" The voice was at my ear, low, concerned. I nodded, biting my lip – I wasn't sure what I wanted at this point. Balthier had been so close… but I wasn't sure if that was what I wanted, either.

Basch's strong, supporting arm helped me to rise. "I'm fine," I said, to try and calm Vaan and Penelo, who were fluttering about, and I limped forward.

My arm was the worst of it, but my legs (and the rest of me, for that matter) were battered and bruised. Curaga was able to help some, but I was liable to get punch-drunk if I took too many spells.

We followed the long, linear route up. I gritted my teeth and focussed on trying to keep up with the rest of them, not listening terribly attentively to their chatter, until something Fran said caught my attention, reminding me why we were here.

"The din of the Mist grows greater," the viera intoned. I could feel it, too – a dull, rhythmic throbbing that set my teeth on edge and my bones to aching even more.

"The Sun-cryst must be near," Basch agreed. I almost sighed with relief. _Good, _I thought. _Then Ashe can make whatever decision she bloody well wants to and we can end this. And I'll go back to Blayne. _The scenario I painted was a grim one. A life without Balthier was one I didn't even want to consider. But it was all I had. I continued to struggle forward. My only hope was that there would be a Crystal somewhere in this godsforsaken place that I could use so I wouldn't feel so heavy and useless. The party was already out their strongest fighter because he was helping me; I couldn't have been more grateful to Reddas for taking up the slack. The closer we got to the summit, the more distracted Ashe became, and Balthier… well, I tried not to look at him, but his attention also seemed to be elsewhere. No doubt looking for the next camp so he could sleep with Ashe again. I gritted my teeth, but it was a different kind of pain that filled me, one that made my bruised body almost insignificant.

"I wonder if she'll really do it," Penelo mused after a while, pitching her voice low; it still carried in the echoing tower, mingling with the sound of rushing water that had become as omnipresent as breathing. "Take revenge against the Empire."

Though Ashe must have heard, she was either too deep in her own thoughts to acknowledge the words, or perhaps she simply didn't want to, still far from a decision.

"I mean, I know how she must feel." Penelo's voice was laden with sympathy. "It's hard, losing someone you care about."

"Something we all got in common," Vaan sighed, and I knew he was thinking about his brother, and Penelo her family. The boy was more right than he knew. No-one I knew had actually _died_, but the way I saw him now, Balthier might as well be dead to me. I couldn't imagine how the pain could be worse if he was.

We reached a large staircase, and my attention was momentarily diverted. Navigating the stairs was much more treacherous now. I almost missed Penelo's quiet words.

"But, you know, no matter how hard we try, we can't change the past. There's nothing that can bring them back." I was almost moved to tears. I felt dreadful, moping over a lost love when there were people hurting from the deaths of their family and loved ones, but there was something in the way that she said it, so bare, so final, that struck at the hope I hadn't even known I'd harboured. I didn't have any delusions about winning Balthier back, but when put to me like that, it hurt, harder than I'd expected.

The children stopped at the top of the flight of stairs. I was still so far behind that I didn't reach them until Penelo's next words. "Still, sometimes, when I close my eyes… I can see them so clearly."

I fought the urge to blink, knowing what I would find behind my lids: his face, above me, caught in the rapture of lovemaking. I choked back a sob. I was being unfair. I should either get over him, or do something about it. Yet that was so much easier thought than done.

"Illusions of the past." Reddas passed me, with a concerned glance, before speaking to the children. I tried to mangle my features into something approaching neutral, in case anyone else looked back. "You think to have cast them off, only to find them years later, unwearying, unrelenting." Even the mystery of what shadows Reddas could have in his closet could not shake me from the overbearing agony. What did he see when he closed his eyes?

"The past can bind a man as surely as irons," Reddas continued, and I nodded, agreeing with this bleak summary of my life. Somehow I knew that no matter how hard I tried to move on, I would never escape the lingering tie, pulling me back, past this awful tower, to a place where I knew he at least _wanted_ me. Would I ever be free of my longing to be back there? What would change?

The entire party had stopped now, as I did, reluctantly. As difficult as going on was, starting again was even worse. I wondered if enough time had passed that I could whisper another Cure. Reddas' eyes were now on Ashe's back, ramrod-straight, staring off into the distance, either deeply pensive or determinedly ignorant. "Cut the true path," Reddas quoted softly. "But will she?"

I could have responded 'What is truth?' But I didn't feel up for a philosophical discussion right now and so I merely whispered yet another Cure instead.

The stairs, unfortunately, turned out to be a trend. We climbed seven floors altogether; by the third, Basch (who had been hovering near me all the while), had to place his arm around my shoulders to keep my feet moving. My pain was so great that I was almost about to ask him to carry me – until we reached the top landing, which contained… _blessed gods and goddess_: a Crystal.

I practically threw myself into its multifaceted surface, feeling wonderful coolness suffusing all my limbs. I let all of the breath I'd been holding to keep my face composed out in a sigh of relief and joy, the lines of exertion that had seemed permanently etched into my face smoothing away. I stepped from the Crystal in order to let the others use it and stood still and on my own for a moment, feeling _nothing_.

This bliss did not last long. There were other pains; ones that nothing could magick away. Trying to get them out of the angle of my peripheral vision, I stepped up to the carven pillar that towered behind the Crystal, taking out the now worn piece of parchment and writing down the final lines of the long, repetitive, surprisingly beautiful poem.

There was no doubt of it having been written by the Occuria – their arrogance and oddly lilted speech screamed from every line. Despite the beauty of the poem, I had a sudden urge to tear the pieces of parchment into many tiny pieces. But there was the small matter of the writing at the top…

I shook my head sharply, willing my thoughts to something else.

"The final battle approaches," Fran said, reading the words on the column. Her voice was suddenly beside me, and I looked up in surprise. "You may take the splint off, if you wish, but I do not think you should fight. Your arm may be healed, but magick can only do so much and the bone should set. Do not risk losing use of it altogether."

I nodded in reluctant agreement, putting the poem away and starting to undo the knots of the splint with one hand, trying not to think about the last hand to have touched it. Fran's deft fingers slid in under mine and had them undone in a second. The viera put them away in the first aid pack (on a journey such as this, we could not afford to waste anything).

We were all tired, but the adrenaline born of a coming battle rushed through our veins. We couldn't stop. Not when we were this close to the end.

"All right, everyone, gather round," Ashe commanded. "This is it. The Sun-cryst waits beyond this Way Stone; prepare yourselves." Her voice gave no indication of whether she had made her decision yet or not. We all obeyed, coming to touch some part of the Stone, myself taking great care not to end up anywhere near Ashe or Balthier. The habitual jerk, and when we materialised, something of great and overwhelming beauty met my eyes.

As I walked forward, I perceived a blinding light not unlike that of the void of teleportation, only this one was of such astounding splendour that I had tears in my eyes. As my senses adjusted, I saw great webs of light like swathes of silk swaddling a crystal of immense size and brilliance.

Reddas summed up the scene. "So this is the Sun-cryst."

* * *

**A/N: **Next up, the Triple Pharos Boss Battle (my own name). I might post my transcription of the Occuria poem on my LJ account when I get back from the weekend. Remember to check out the playlist!


	29. The Beginning of the End

**Disclaimer: **Stop. You must pull back. Stop the Disclaimer.

**A/N: **Surprise! You guys get a treat heading into the long weekend! Why the early update, you may ask. Well, I'm going to be going away to my cottage again and before that I've got free tickets to a Wynton Marsalis concert (lucky me!!) so I'm not sure when I'm going to have a chance to update. In order to forestall all that, I decided to update today!  
This is the chapter that almost never was! (lol - it sounds so dramatic; basically this was originally a part of chapter 28 but it passed 9,000 words and that was just a trifle too long, so I split it up). Enjoy!  
I'm going to take some time now to give a special thanks to iamthetv who was the only person to leave a comment on my lj playlist. As of writing, it is finished, composed of a whopping 72 songs spanning 4 and a half hours. Truly epic. But seeing as it's a 100-plus page story, I'm not really all that surprised. I do encourage everyone to check it out and get your fill of (if not my taste in music), the sometimes uncanny resemblance some songs have to the events in my story.  
So without further ado, chapter 29.

* * *

Ashe moved a few feet ahead of us, holding the Sword of Kings in her right hand, the Treaty-Blade in her left.

"King Raithwall stood here," she mused, her voice, quiet with awe, echoing off the stone walls of the large columned chamber. She hefted the Treaty-Blade. "With this sword he cut the Sun-cryst and took its power in his hand." Her words no longer rang with doubt.

Vaan spoke up. "But you're going to use the sword to destroy the Sun-cryst. Aren't you, Ashe."

Ashe half-smiled. "Don't interrupt me, Vaan," she admonished with an ease born of long familiarity, and I knew then that she had made her decision.

Ashe raised the Treaty-Blade, and I felt a jolt of fear.

There came a vast rumbling, deep and penetrating. The webs around the Cryst gathered and burst out in fiery plumes. They passed unhindered thought everything in their path, be it flesh, steel, or stone. One passed through me, and I closed my eyes and shuddered. The presence did not harm me, but the strangeness of it made me feel violated in some way. When I opened my eyes, I saw Balthier looking at me with the strangest expression, but I looked quickly away from him and back to the Cryst. The shimmering swathes around it had vanished. Ashe stepped forward.

As she did so, I saw an apparition. No Blayne or Balthier this time – such a figure could only be…

"Lord Rasler!?" Basch exclaimed, and then I knew that the rest of the party could see him, too. I stared at the unfamiliar visage of my would-be king, thinking vaguely of how awkward this must be for Balthier.

Ashe addressed the ghost of her dead husband.

"You want revenge." It was a realization, not a question. "You would have me use the Stone? You would have me destroy the Empire? Is this my duty, is this what you want?" Her words ran together in despair. "I cannot," she cried, seeming mortified by this admission of weakness.

"Why do you hesitate?"

We all whirled to the sound of the unknown voice, filtered as through a helmet. Silhouetted against the sudden storm outside was an armoured figure with streaming cape. A Judge Magister. I resisted a glance at Balthier.

The judge took a step into the chamber. He wielded an odd weapon, at once a double-headed spear and dual swords.

"Take what is yours," he continued. "The Cryst is a blade. It was meant for you. Wield it! Avenge your father!"

I didn't like this. Ashe had made her decision, and I was fairly sure that escalating violence was not the way to go. Whatever this Archadian wanted, I was sure that it would not be in Ashe's best interest to go along with his goading.

Ashe seemed to be having a kind of epiphany, one that did not escape the judge.

"Yes, it was _I _who wore Basch's face – who cut down the Life of Dalmasca. Lady Ashe! Your father's murderer is here!"

My newly-healed fists clenched. So this was the so-called brother who had caused Basch such pain; who had ruined my life, and so many others'.

"You!?" Ashe spat venomously.

"And Reks!" Vaan exclaimed. I wondered if the man knew how much danger he had just put himself in. I wanted to look at Basch, but was afraid of what I would see. I didn't think I could bear any other's pain on top of my own.

"I slew your king. I slew your country. Do these deeds not demand vengeance?"

I shook my head rhythmically, back and forth, trying to suppress my own blinding rage. They demanded _justice_, not vengeance. Violence would get us nowhere.

I repeated the words like a mantra as Ashe dropped the Sword of Kings and lifted the Treaty-Blade. I wanted to stop her, sure she was being manipulated, but the cry stopped short of my lips. It was not my place. Ashe kept her own counsel.

"Yes! Good! Find your wrath!" The judge's voice was eager, lending credence to my suspicions. "Take up your sword! Fight, and serve those who died before you!" As he spoke, he strode towards the center of the party.

I didn't see it, it was so sudden. I heard a clash, and I jumped to see Reddas suddenly between the judge and Vaan, blocking the swing aimed at the unarmed boy. I shivered at how close it had come. Where his sense of honour was, to strike the child first, I don't know. But then Reddas spoke, and such concerns were driven out of my mind.

"A Judge Magister there was…" He spoke as though storytelling. "Two years past, he took in his hand the Midlight Shard, stolen from Nabradia, and used it not knowing what he did…" I could only imagine the destruction that had wreaked. "And Nabudis was blown away. Cid ordered this of him to learn the nethicite's true power. That man swore never to let such terrible power be used again. He forsook his Judicer's plate, and his name."

The stranger disengaged their blades. "Judge Zecht!"

My mouth dropped open. Suddenly everything was clear. To think that we'd been wandering around with the long-lost Judge! One that had flattened Nabradia, no less! I wasn't quite sure what to think of him now.

"It's been too long, Gabranth," Reddas – or was it Zecht? – said with a hard smile. "Reach out your hand, Lady Ashe!" he called back. "But remember, that which you must grasp is something beyond revenge, something greater than despair! Something beyond _our_ reach," he said now to Gabranth. "Try as we might, history's chains bind us too tightly."

The judge knocked him to the ground (some smaller part of my mind realized how strong he must be in order to do so).

"No, we cannot escape the past. This man is living proof! What is your past, Daughter of Dalmasca? Did you not swear revenge? Do the dead not demand it?" My lips curled in a frown. I could not imagine kind King Raminas desiring this kind of reaction.

Ashe gazed at Rasler's ghost, then looked to Vaan. The boy had picked up one of Reddas/Zecht's fallen swords, looking with undisguised hatred at Gabranth. The two exchanged a long glance. The princess turned back.

"Rasler," she said. "My Prince. Our time was short. Yet I know this…" In a lightning-quick movement, she raised the Treaty-Blade and slashed the apparition across the chest. I couldn't help it – an involuntary gasp escaped my lips. No one seemed to hear. "You were not the kind to take base revenge!" All the fight seemed to go out of her and she slumped, the sword's point hitting the floor.

Rasler spoke then, but it was not the voice of a man that I heard. I had heard these voices once before: held in a white stasis field, listening to Ashe's manipulation.

"You are our saint, Ashelia B'nargin. You must use the nethicite! You must be the one to straighten history's weave!"

And suddenly I understood. The Occuria had played their endgame. All this while Ashe had believed she was following the wishes of her beloved husband, when in reality it was all a trick. Her reaction was swift. She attacked again, and the apparition vanished.

"I am no false saint for you to use!" she spat.

I watched her warily. It had been the right thing to do, but I knew it had also been hard.

"Ashe…" Vaan said, surprisingly sensitive.

"In all Dalmasca's long history," Ashe said slowly, "not once did we rely on the Dusk Shard. Our people resolved never to use it, though our need might be dire." She turned to look at us, eyes resigned. "_That _was the Dalmasca I wanted back. To use the Stone now would be to destroy that." I smiled. She had finally done it – finally found, amidst all other concerns, the thing that she wanted most of all. Resolve blazed in her face. "I will destroy the Sun-cryst!" she cried. "I will discard the Stone!" I blinked. The princess didn't do anything by halves.

"You claim no need of power?" Gabranth returned. "What of your broken kingdom's shame? The dead demand justice!" He sensed he was losing, and his words were harping, empty. I noted that it was _justice_ now, not _vengeance._

"You're wrong," Vaan burst out. Gabranth, startled, turned to him, as did we all. "What would change? I can't help my brother now. My brother's gone. He's dead!"

Vaan had grown, I reflected, regarding the boy. I wondered why I felt the sudden urge to put my arm around his shoulders.

Ashe's voice was soft. "Even with power, we cannot change what has passed. What is done, is done."

She rolled the Stone towards Gabranth. Even knowing that it was a useless artefact, I still caught my breath.

Gabranth persisted. "Yet without power, what future can you claim? What good a kingdom you cannot defend?"

Basch, silent until now, stepped forward. "Then I will defend queen and kingdom both!"

Gabranth turned on his brother, as if giving in to some signal. "Hah!" he scoffed. "Defend? You? You who failed Landis and Dalmasca?" _Don't listen to him! _I wanted to shout. That was exactly what Basch was going to do. He defended. Even me, from my own demise and selfishness… and despair. "What can shame hope to keep safe?" Gabranth continued his tirade. "Your shield is shattered! Your oaths poison those you would protect!" He attacked.

I reached for my pole, then remembered Fran's admonition and stopped, cursing. I had wanted to get a few rounds in against Basch's hateful brother. _Me! _I wanted to scream, defying the armour-clad monster. _Even shame is too good to keep me safe! _Basch had sworn me no oath, and I feared that _I _was the one poisoning _him_. But there was one thing I could do.

"Leave all the casting to me!" I called, over the clash of swords. This promised to be a mostly physical battle anyway. I chanted Dispel, Cures, and when no-one needed health, I tried my new Scathe magick licence, in place of the scathing words and blows I wanted to inflict.

Partway through, Gabranth engaged Basch body-to-body. The two brothers had been focussing solely on each other throughout the whole battle. Because of the mask, I couldn't see Gabranth's emotions, but I knew how it cost Basch. "Hear me, Basch," Gabranth said venomously. "Do not think killing the kingslayer will win you back your honour! When you abandoned home and kin, your name was forever stained with blood!"

I grimaced. What had _happened_, so long ago, in the forgotten kingdom of Landis?"

"Aye," Basch replied, "this stain is mine to bear. But I will bear it willingly, knowing I did all I could… for hope."

_So there_, I thought. But Gabranth was not done. "Preen and strut as you like! In the end, we are the same! Blood-thirsting carrion birds, hell-bent on revenge!"

Furious beyond words, I unleashed a blistering Scathe. _I'll show you blood-thirsting!_

Astonishingly, Gabranth flew backwards, staggering, dropping his swords. I blinked, astounded, as the party turned to look at me. Had _I_ done that?

But Gabranth's focus was still on his brother. "So you, too, would leave your debts unpaid?"

Whether or not Basch would have responded, I do not know. For at that moment, another voice came from the entryway, but this one was far too familiar. I stiffened, clenching my fists, and away to my right, somewhere I wouldn't look, Balthier did the same.

"Enough of this," Cid cried, the similarities between his voice and the voice that I loved jarring. "I can bear no more!" He stepped to Gabranth's side. I wondered if the remark meant more than it said. Was he truly tired of endless familial feuding? The thought brought up an interesting point: was there anyone among us that _didn't _have a messed-up family? "You disappoint me, Gabranth. He trusted you." I frowned. What was he talking about? Not Basch, surely? "When you bared steel against the Princess, you foreswore your obligations to your Emperor. You shame yourself, and make mockery of Lord Larsa's trust. You are unfit to serve him as sword or shield. And so I release you from that service. Your presence is neither required nor welcome." His son had certainly inherited the gift of turning any situation into one in which the other was the one stepped on.

Gabranth growled, a low, menacing sound coming from behind the helmet. He leaped towards Cid, who had heedlessly walked beyond the judge. I had a flash of when Zecht had tried the same. I knew what would happen next.

Basch did, too, and could not resist uttering a warning. "Gabranth!"

Too late. Venat appeared, this time in physical form, and Gabranth was thrown back, much further than I had pushed him, and slammed against a pillar. Basch looked away, unable to look, unable to help.

Then Balthier spoke, and the sound of his voice was like razor blades to my heart.

"You were only a tool of this Venat," he said slowly. Could it be that he still held out hope of changing him? I winced.

Cid half-smiled. "How quaint. We are allies! The Occuria give men power as a master feeds his dog; it is meant to tame us. How well you've resisted their wile." Again his attention was all on Ashe. Now I understood. Because we were not both on the side of the Occuria, he assumed our purposes were the same. "By turning your back on their Stones, you give us free hand to write our own history."

This was where he was wrong. "And at what price?" Ashe retorted. "Dalmasca's freedom for your nethicite? I shall not suffer you to have it. The Sun-cryst be damned!"

But the princess had miscalculated – either that, or Cid was simply unpredictable.

He laughed. "Oh, be sure that it is!" He opened his arms wide as if to embrace the crystal. "For what other purpose do you think you've brought us here? But, my lady. I would have you stay your Occurian sword! The Sun-cryst is glutted with Mist, and so precious a thing must not be squandered!" I smirked. Did the man truly think we would give him anything, after all he'd done? But then I realized – he wasn't going to give us a choice.

"Let us use the Stone!" he cried. "Finish this, Venat!" He tossed the nethicite in the air, and Venat swooped upwards after it. All three of the Shards assembled in midair, and I caught my breath. Dawn, Midlight, and Dusk, all intermingling… it was quite a beautiful sight. Or it would have been, had they not started gathering Mist to themselves, accompanied by Cid's maniacal laughter.

"Shards of nethicite! Cocoon of the Sun-cryst!" It sounded like an invocation. "Spill forth your Mist upon this Ivalice! Let sea and sky be awash in it, that _Bahamut _may come and drink his fill!"

The Shards aligned, flying into the Cryst (guided, I presumed, by Venat). And Cid began to levitate. I watched in terrified fascination as Cid recited:

"And lo! How brightly burned their lanthorn!" I couldn't for the life of me remember the play the line was from, and I was sure I would no longer like it once I found out. "Casts it back the shadow of Occurian design! Testament that Man's history shall be His alone!"

Balthier supported Fran, who was struggling with the sudden wave of Mist that slammed into us. He seemed unable to contain himself any longer. I wondered if it was the play reference. "You made your nethicite for this." He left Fran in his fury, battling against the flood of Mist. "You mimic the Occuria's Stone for what? To become a god yourself!?" I'd never heard him so angry.

Cid did not deny it. "On whose shoulders better to stand than those of the would-be gods? Ah!" At last, some regret entered his tone, but it was too little, too late, and for the wrong reason. "Such high hopes I once had… but you ran and ran and they with you! Alas! The hour of your return is late! Come, Ffamran!" Hearing the love-name I had called him on the maddened lips of his estranged father made me shudder. "Revel in the glory of my triumph!" Cid leaped towards the party. I suspected that there would be some revelling, but it would not be on Balthier's part.

Ah, gods, I _wanted_. So many things. I wanted to be able to hit Cid myself, for Balthier. I wanted to be accepted if I were to go up to Balthier, to support him. I wanted to be good enough to do either.

But I wasn't, and it did no good to wish. Instead, I Dispelled Cid and cast Scathe again, unable to do more.

Suddenly, Cid produced the most massive chaingun I had seen in my entire life (from where, I could not discern). He said something – I was too far away to hear. Balthier seemed to, however, and he stiffened. I could tell Cid was laughing.

And shells burst out of the Gattling Gun, exploding in a profusion of light and noise. Even though I was so far away, they filled the chamber. There was no way to avoid them.

Acting on instinct, I dove behind a column and pressed my body into it, making myself as small as possible as chaos pounded around me.

The abrupt silence was almost as loud as the sounds that had preceded it. It was a gunshot that shattered it – the battle was on again. I chanted a Cura to close the shot wound on my leg – I hadn't been quite fast enough. As I emerged from behind the pillar to see who else needed healing, I almost tripped over the prone form of Gabranth, shuddering with laboured, irregular breathing. Overwhelmed with a sudden pity that I was sure I would regret later, I sent a quick Cure his way. His breathing eased.

"Thank-you," he whispered. I was unable to reply, for just then Cid declaimed again, and I hurried away.

"Behold the manufacted nethicite," he cried, holding up another Stone that glowed an angry red. "The fruit of our power and knowledge! See what the Stone of Man is capable of! Witness its power with your own eyes! Famfrit! To me!" He tossed the piece of nethicite into the air and it produced a summoning circle, something I had never seen before. A being appeared within the circle, something I would have known anywhere for a scion even had I not seen it summoned – it just had that feel about it. The Esper was a looming presence, towering above us, levitating to further enhance the effect. The creature had no legs, but carried a massive urn, and wore a mask with no face.

"Famfrit," Fran murmured. "The Darkening Cloud."

I was experienced enough by now to deduce its weakness on my own without asking Fran. The urn was what had given me the idea – I remembered further back to the battle with Slyt and started chanting Oil. Fran, without having to be told, launched into the spell for Firaga as soon as she heard what I was doing. Our magick-laden words rose and fell in cadence, mine finishing just slightly before hers. I prayed it would stick… and it did, in time for Fran's spell to slam into Famfrit with double the usual power.

"Dammit!" The curse did not come from us. To our left the party was throwing itself against Cid, with absolutely no effect whatsoever. It took me a moment to realize what had happened – Venat was nowhere to be seen, and this shielding bore no traces of her handiwork. Cid's immunity had to be tied to Famfrit – it was the only thing new in this equation.

Fran's call echoed my thoughts. "We must destroy Famfrit before Cid can be eliminated," she informed them. "A combination of Firaga and Oil works best – as in the battle with Slyt."

Once the party had made the transition between battles, Famfrit didn't stand a chance. It was powerful, but its power was gained by artifice, and was therefore artificial. Granted, a few blasts of Briny Cannonade and Waterja made that difficult to believe, but the scion fell soon enough and we were able to turn our attentions back to Cid.

I was running low on MP by this point, and still forbidden to fight. Penelo allotted me one of her precious Elixirs, and I jogged around in an attempt to recover my strength. It should have been the end of the battle, but Cid had one more trick up his sleeve.

As the massive energy wave swept through the room, I felt a distinct ringing in my ears and pain buzzed through me, sharp as a lancet. Suddenly I was on the floor, unable to move, feeling a belated sense of déjà vu – what was it about battles with Cid that left me unable to stand up straight? I vaguely reflected that encounters with his son had the same effect.

Around me, the party was in similar difficulties. As fast as I could, I chanted a painful Curaga – I heard various voices in the room doing the same. Fran, of course, was back on her feet before Cid even had a chance to take advantage – she'd only fallen to her knees in the first place. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Balthier was the next up, and the battle raged on.

At last, Cid let out a painful groan. He struggled to raise his guns, but failed and collapsed. We obtained Famfrit, but that was of little importance now. (Balthier would later forge a pact with the Esper that had aided his father.)

Balthier, hesitating only slightly, ran towards his father's prone form, the ties of family win out at last. But Venat appeared in from of him, blocking his way to Cid. Balthier checked himself, and shot the Occurian such a glare that if looks could kill, god or not, the world would have lost one. I could read his thoughts, because they were the same as my own. _You stole his father, and now you're going to take away even this?_

Cid rose unsteadily to his feet. It was obvious to all that he had received his death wound – I would not have been surprised if it was a bullet hole.

"Let him by, Venat," Cid said breathlessly. "It is done. Ah, how I have enjoyed these six years."

Venat spoke for the first time, and I could hear in her voice the echo of the powerful round of Giruvegan.

"The pleasure was all mine." She vanished, and Balthier took a few more cautious steps forward. I couldn't bear to look at Balthier's face, so I watched Cid instead. Closer inspection of his hand revealed that it was slowly dissipating, turning into the Mist he had so loved. This did not escape his son's notice.

"Was there no other way?" I heard no regret, simply resignation. He knew there hadn't been – it was wishful thinking to believe otherwise.

Cid knew it, too. "Spend your pity elsewhere." Only then did I realize that this was the first time they had conversed with each other in over six years. Cid's voice was calm as he continued, eyes resting gently on his son's face as he continued to dissolve. "If you are so set on running, hadn't you best be off? Fool of a pirate." Cid's tone was almost kind, the closest thing to love I had ever heard while he addressed Balthier. For the briefest of instants, he had sounded like a father. Then he faded completely, as I realized that only his death had made such a truce possible. Balthier's eyes stayed trained on the place where his father had disappeared, no emotion in his face at all. But as I looked deeper, as I had been unable to do since seeing the kiss, struggling to see past the mask, I could see other things. Disbelief was foremost – it was finally over. Relief, as well. Pain had its place, too, and regret and love intermingled; faint, but strong. It was hardest for me to see that last, but it was written in every line of his face. Balthier mourned. He seemed slightly off-balance – his purpose in life for so long was no more. He didn't seem positive of what to do now.

Penelo's voice put it all into perspective.

"Fran?" she sounded anxious. I turned to see the viera prostrate on the ground, incapacitated by the amount of Mist in the air, which had grown while I was watching Balthier until even I could feel it.

"The Mist burns," Fran moaned. Penelo bent over her helplessly, unsure of what to do. "To bursting it beats." I hurried to her side, taking her hand. She felt feverish. Did viera get sick? "The cocoon!" Her back arched and then she slumped back, eyes rolling into her head.

Suddenly, Balthier was there. Penelo moved swiftly out of the way for him, and then he was across from me, closer than I had allowed myself since Hashmal – close enough to drink in his sweet scent. He took Fran's other hand.

"The Sun-cryst bursts." Fran was panting now. "You must run. As far as you can."

"Easy, Fran," he soothed his partner, his face softer and more concerned than I had ever seen it. Fran twitched - I released her hand and she raised it to cup Balthier's face. His expression never changed.

"Hadn't you best be off?" she gasped, quoting Cid (intentionally, I thought). Even while in the throes of such agony, Fran had to make a statement. "That what a sky pirate does. You fly, don't you?" Was I imagining the double meaning in her words?

Balthier placed his hand over Fran's on his cheek, and I was almost undone by the surge of longing that it loosed in me. To be able to touch him, even like that, and be touched in return… I yearned to have that back again.

"I suppose you'd better hang on, then," Balthier replied calmly. I continued to stare at him, though thankfully he paid no attention to me. It was as if, once I had permitted my eyes to latch onto his face, they wouldn't let it go. I heard Vaan's call somewhere far away: "Ashe, the sword! We have to stop it!"

My concentration broken, I whirled to see Vaan with the Sword of Kings and Ashe with the Treaty-Blade struggling against the Mist wave towards the Sun-cryst. I frowned at the weapon in Ashe's hand. Could it be that she was still undecided, even now? But Zecht fought towards her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"You must quit this place," he yelled over the howling wind. "It's reacting. I've not seen its like before." He shook his head. "Nay, never this large. Never such threat impendent." He raised the Sword of Kings – I realized belatedly that Vaan's hands were empty. His voice was calm and resolute. "For Nabudis."

"Reddas?" Vaan was bewildered for only a moment. "Reddas, no!"

Zecht took a running leap against the current, demonstrating the power and strength he had in him… which would soon be gone from the world. For what he did was surely suicide.

He raised the sword high above his head. "I, Judge Magister, condemn you to oblivion!" I recognized the words of the death sentence even as he brought the sword down upon the Cryst, creating a light so blinding-bright it engulfed the whole chamber. Before I had to look away, I thought I saw a smile on Zecht's face.

And then the world stood still.

* * *

**A/N: **Ah, yes, a cliffie. Next up, escaping the Pharos (which they never explained how they did it in the game), and advancing the storyline with Al-Cid! The playlist on LJ is now caught up with the updates, and more songs will be added at the same time as chapters are - wouldn't want to give away the story, now would I? See you next week!


	30. Hurry!

**Disclaimer: **We'll be lucky if we earn a 'not disappointed' from it!

**A/N: **Whew! Wipes sweat from brow That was too close!  
It turns out my memory stick has crapped out on me! Luckily, it was my backup _backup _one, so nothing much was lost, but I had been relying on it heavily for the later chapters, so I've been working around the clock to get this typed up for you all. I hope you like it! Also, there will be no updates to the playlist for this chapter (because I wouldn't want to spoil it, would I?) A discrepancy I noticed in the posts, however, has been fixed. If anyone wants a link, here it is (take out the spaces):  
pellaaearien. livejournal. com  
If this seems a little short, all I can say is: wait until next week! ;) So here we go with how they got out of the tower. I figured that since the writers used a plot device, I could take a little creative licence - so I did!

* * *

We barely managed to escape with our lives – Balthier hoisting Fran, urging all the rest of us out.

"_Go!_" he ordered, and, stunned as we were, we all jumped – I don't think I'd ever heard him raise his voice. We were out the door and down the stairs so fast the wave had barely reached us.

"Keep going!" Balthier led us, Fran a dead weight in his arms, racing down first one flight of stairs, then another. It was certainly easier going down than up, but there were over ninety floors, and the tower was falling apart around us…

"Siyana." Balthier's direct address nearly felled me. "In my pouch on your side there is a remote controlling device. Can you reach it?"

I frowned in concentration – I could, but it would be difficult while running, not to mention in violation of my standard of non-contact. But there were more important things at stake here than the death of my heart. I reached into the pouch he indicated, calling on years of training for keeping my hands steady for another purpose to reach past bullet cartridges and airship tools to find a slim metal rectangle. I pulled it out, hardly breaking stride.

"Good." Balthier projected below the cacophony of destruction around us. "Now press the green button." I did.

"That's summoned the _Strahl_," Balthier said, to forestall my inevitable question, "but we're still too high for her to reach us. She'll be waiting at one of the lower levels, and I'm counting on the tower holding together until we get there." He was a little breathless now – I knew as well as any how heavy Fran was – and our brief conversation ended. I slipped the control back into Balthier's pouch without being asked, just for an excuse to touch him, and bent all of my attention on running, not on how I wanted to scream.

I don't know exactly what floor we were on, but it was probably closer to 70 than 80 (the monsters did not trouble us, having all fled and hidden due to the destruction), that I heard a faint humming noise, nearly inaudible over the sounds of crumbling masonry. Fighting to keep my footing on the treacherously cracking staircase, I glanced up and saw the _Strahl_, in all her majesty, hovering, awaiting us. The humming I heard was her straining to go higher. I winced – that couldn't be good for the engines. Incredibly, there wasn't a scratch on her – Balthier must have installed proximity detectors.

We passed through the now-intermittent fall of water as Balthier urged us all inside. He laid Fran gently down on a bed in the back and then pressed on to the cockpit. I followed close behind – he would be in need of a co-pilot, and I was the most experienced candidate. Vaan followed, and, to my surprise, Balthier did not shoo him away.

"Watch closely," he commanded the boy, immediately dropping the _Strahl _some hundred feet. I adjusted the stabilizers without being told, waiting for his next move. Balthier began instructing Vaan in the specific techniques of flying the _Strahl _as we plunged downwards – I listened with half an ear, keeping an eye on the stabilizer grid – unsurprisingly, the Mist-readings were off the charts. I quickly saw that Balthier would need more intake if he wanted to continue the way he was flying, so I increased the Stone residue output instead, trying to diffuse the bubble around us caused by the imbalance in mist levels, creating a pocket which kept our systems from working right.

_Our? _I caught myself. _His._

We made it to the ground floor by dropping so fast that, despite my best efforts, the stabilizers were gyrating (I'd left my stomach behind several hundred feet beforehand). There was the sound of shifting machinery, and Balthier pulled us out of our dive. Stone was collapsing around us. We felt it, then – the aftershock. Balthier flared the wings to slow us, angling the _Strahl _as carefully as he could. I helped by calculating his trajectory and sending it over to his console. I could guess well enough at his aim – the massive front door. The temperature gauge read increasing heat levels, and the roar of consumption was almost deafening, not to mention that all the water that had been held against gravity by the Cryst's displacement was now reverting to more natural laws.

"Hang on tight!" Balthier ordered, and revved the engines. I took the last few crucial seconds to put the skystone intake valve to full before clutching the arms of my chair. The _Strahl _shot forward, Balthier waiting until the last possible moment before snapping the wings shut and tilting the ship sideways in almost the same instant. With the crash of water and a billow of fire, the _Strahl _streaked out through the front portal. Balthier spread the wings right away and we coursed up into the open sky. After making some minor adjustments, I sat back and breathed a sigh of relief. Balthier's style of flying brought a whole new meaning to the phrase 'edge of your seat'. Only Fran had the nerves for a sustained diet of it. Was I imagining it, or did Balthier shoot a smirk my way? When I looked to check, his expression was composed.

It was then that we realized what had truly happened – we were short one of our number. However dubious his past had been, Reddas/Zecht had been a great asset and a friend to all of us. He had really taken Vaan under his wing, and he had helped me from the depths of despair. He would be missed.

Vaan's voice was sad. "Reddas…"

Balthier put the ship in autopilot, swivelling back from his position.

"I'm going to check on Fran," he informed us, moving past me. Was the briefest of touches on my shoulder an accident or an acknowledgement? Either way, I jerked away from it. Balthier did not seem to notice.

"Vaan, bother Siyana if you have any questions." Why, oh, why did my name in his mouth still make me react? It would be hard to ignore him if even his offhand comments affected me.

Vaan turned, an eager, acquisitive light in his eyes. As I began to answer his mostly pertinent questions, Penelo drifted nearer with inquiries of her own, and I thought I caught Basch and Ashe listening in, too.

I was just finishing my explanation of how to read and manage the stabilizer grid when Balthier returned, and he had Fran with him. I immediately began to rise from my seat, but the viera put a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't bother," she told me, keeping me in my seat. Her voice was still rather rough. There was a glint in her eyes that Balthier couldn't see from his seat – or at least I hoped so. I settled back as Fran slipped into the seat behind.

"Prepare for landing," Balthier said, and Vaan and Penelo scurried to their seats. If Balthier thought anything amiss of my continued presence, he did not show it.

"Make your approach twenty degrees southeast," Balthier murmured. I did so, making sure that my measurements were accurate – the jagd conditions made the instruments react in strange ways.

Usually when landing, Blayne had me activate the communicator so that his hands were free to work the controls. It was a reflex reaction for me to do so now – without realizing that Balthier had a different routine.

Our hands met for a short instant, and the electric current that passed between them was undiminished – perhaps even strengthened – because of our enforced distance. I yanked my hand away quickly, feeling my will crumbling. Not because I didn't want to touch him, but because I _did_ – so much so that I wasn't sure I would be able to control myself.

Balthier pressed the button, and his voice was steady as he contacted the control center.

"This is YPA-G847 _Strahl_, requesting permission to land."

'_We hear you, _Strahl_, permission is granted. Berth 5 is cleared and ready for your use. You may begin your approach.'_

"Thank-you, Control. _Strahl_ out."

"What will they do when they realize Reddas' not with us?" Penelo whispered?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Balthier replied firmly, slowing the _Strahl. _I waited until we were hovering over the hangar doors to activate the landing gear, not knowing what velocity it held up at.

"We'll head for the Manse," Ashe said as Balthier shut off the engines. "Whatever else happens, we should tell his servants what has transpired. There must have been a system in place to deal with the succession of power. And what comes after…" I read the uncertainty in her words. What would she do now, while Dalmasca's future hung in the balance, the nethicite forever beyond her reach? The anxiety in the air was palpable. "We'll see."

But there was no need for our errand when we arrived. The steward took one look at us an nodded grimly.

"It is as I feared. Lord Reddas laid provision for this before he left – I did not think he was intending to come back. Leave everything to me." He bowed. "I thank you for your diligence." There was a pause as he looked off into space. Before we could prompt him, he shook himself out of it. "Please forgive me. You are awaited in the sunroom. Your visitor made it clear that he wished to see you directly. Attendants will see to your lodgings after you've spoken."

We exchanged confused glances. Who could have tracked us here?

Driven by curiosity, we hurried to Reddas' lounge. Vaan pushed the doors open. I didn't recognize the man lounging at his ease in Reddas' accustomed chair (I felt a pang of outrage at this slight), but Vaan was the first to identify the visitor.

"Al-Cid?" The boy was incredulous.

The man sat up – I realized that he, like Larsa Solidor, had been met previously by the party. I saw his eyes examine the group, take in my presence. His eyebrows raised, but otherwise he did not react. "We let ourselves inside." He spoke with a heavy Rozarrian accent. "The situation is one requiring some haste, you understand."

"How did you know where we were?" Vaan's voice was almost rude in his surprise.

Al-Cid smirked. "My birds, they tell me many, many things." Only then did I notice the quartet of girls stationed unobtrusively in various places around the room. I was unfamiliar with Rozarrian hiearchy, but I could sense instinctively that they were House-trained, each one of them. Of course, Al-Cid being heir-apparent to the throne of Rozarria (I remembered the stories now), he was entitled to certain priviliges. And with who better to dally than those unable to sully the royal bloodline?

He halted in front of Ashe.

"My Lady, the war begins now."

Ashe gasped at the suddenness of the pronouncement. "Then, you were unsuccessful in stopping the Rozarrian fleet?

I recalled the stories of the events on Mount Bur-Omisace, and the bargain Ashe and Al-Cid had struck. She had been counting on the Rozarrian coming through.

"I used a variety of methods," Al-Cid replied. It may just have been me, but I heard a distinct double entendre in his words, leading me to wonder as to the process of Rozarrian politics. "All went according to plan until it came time to request the withdrawal of our most… devoted generals. In their enthusiasm for war, our great military leaders went behind my back straight to Marquis Ondore's Resistance."

Ashe had the air of one who doesn't want to believe what they hear. "The Resistance?"

Al-Cid gave a wry smile. "During training, a division of the Resistance ignored their orders and disappeared." He was playing with Reddas' affects as he spoke, and the casual way he treated them filled me with anger. "They were next found exchanging broadsides with the Imperials over Old Nabradia."

Basch spoke from years of military training. "Why did they go there? They were asking to be found!" Al-Cid tossed away whatever he was playing with, and I was about to say something if not for his next words.

"You misunderstand. Those ships most surely belonged to a Rozarrian division." He had an ironic laugh in his voice – I gasped as I put the pieces together. "They may have joined Ondore's Resistance forces as patriots, or even mercenaries," Al-Cid continued, oblivious to my epiphany, "but in reality they are regulars of the Rozarrian army under direct command of our war-pavilion. This fifth column has invaded Imperial airspace and provoked a response." I heard various reactions around the room as others made the connection. "Unable to abandon them, His Excellency the Marquis was obliged to give the order to attack. And the battleground… is Dalmasca."

Ashe stood, shocked, at the thought of a pitched air battle being fought in her skies. I didn't blame her.

"Should this fight drag on, Rozarria will enter the fray, the defence of Dalmasca as their excuse, and we will have a war between empires." The matter-of-fact way Balthier said this was chilling. Who could know where such a war would stop – at the destruction of Ivalice?

"Correct." Al-Cid was almost as cool. "They will bide their time – wait to strike until the Empire has spent itself against the Marquis. But Vayne – he will crush them and the Resistance both between his hands." He illustrated with his own.

Basch tried to put a positive spin on a very negative situation. "Vayne holds the Dusk Shard no longer," he said firmly. "His advantage is lost." At his side, Penelo nodded.

"Vayne has advantages enough." Perhaps it was the seductive Rozarrian accent that lent its edge to all he said. "He stands on higher ground, and my birds tell me he has awoken something quite large." He struck a theatrical pose against the window. "_Bahamut_, Lord of the Sky." Why was it that the name sent a chill of premonition down my spine? "There was a stirring of the Mist in the direction of Ridorana, I'm told. _Bahamut _awoke soon after this."

"It is the Mist that came before the Cryst was undone," Fran said, arms folded over her chest. "It breathed life into this _Bahamut_." There it was again – the shudder of premonition. "If Reddas had not stopped it when he did, how much more Mist might it have drunk?" Another thing we had to thank Reddas for, it seemed. I missed him. "All went according to Doctor Cid's designs."

I tensed. What would Balthier's reaction be to that?

"Yes, the man's last great accomplishment, I fear." Balthier's voice was dark, but not brooding. "And so it falls to me to put an end to the thing."

So Balthier had found his purpose. But where was mine? Could our aims still be the same? Could I bear it if they were?

"Vayne commands _Bahamut _himself?" Ashe asked, half-fearful, half-hopeful.

"He comes to Rabanastre," Al-Cid confirmed.

Resolve settled into the lines of Ashe's face. "Then I will defend Dalmasca and stop this _Bahamut_. This is my charge-"

"That's _our_ charge, actually," Vaan cut her off. Penelo stepped to the princess' other side. "It's our home. It belongs to us all."

And then I knew what I would do. I'd come this far – I would finish the job. I would protect my homeland, and when I was done (if I survived, which I wasn't entirely sure I wanted at this point), I would go back to Blayne. And if Ashe or Balthier didn't like it, that was just too bad.

"And my charge," Al-Cid said, drawing attention back to himself, "is to hinder and delay this Rozarrian invasion for as long as is possible." His 'birds' flitted ahead, preceding him. "I will do what I can." He sounded inexplicably weary, as if his was the hardest task. Yet it was a vital one. I might not like Al-Cid Margrace, but I could not deny that he was a good sort – when he forgot himself.

"Ah, yes," the prince said, turning back. He took Ashe's hand. I darted a quick sideways glance at Balthier, but he was deep in whispered conversation with Fran. "When this unpleasantness is done, you must come to Rozarria," Al-Cid was saying, squeezing her hand to emphasize the point. The conversation behind me broke off. "I will take you to the Ambervale of Clan Margrace. Such things I will show you." There was that double tone again – Ashe had best be careful.

"Until then, I will be waiting." He slipped his sunglasses back on in a sensuous movement, sparing another glance for me before his eyes were hidden, and exited. Ashe stared after him. Balthier sighed, audibly disgusted by the flirting – I wasn't sure if it was because of its quality or because it had worked. Fran crossed her arms.

Attendants appeared, and I followed one of them to a small, well-apportioned room with a balcony. The waft of the sea breeze was soothing. I inhaled deeply as the door closed behind me, trying to sigh away my tension. It wasn't working, but at least it smelled nice.

"You enjoy the salt air." It was not a question, and it came from the corner. I jumped, turning to see Al-Cid unfold himself from the shadows.

"My Lord Margrace!" I hid my shock beneath a courtesy. What was the heir apparent of Rozarria doing in my room?

"Spare me the formalities," he said, coming towards me. "I want nothing more than to make you feel comfortable." _Then get out of my room! _I wanted to say, but since that would have been rude, I said nothing, waiting for him to reveal his purpose here. Did everything have to be foreplay with this man?

"You are probably wondering why I am here," he said, picking up on my expression. "It is very simple. I can tell from the way you stand and examine my birds that you are also an adept of this… _escuela__ de __noche_?" I nodded, hoping he would be satisfied with the answer and leave.

"May I see the _señal_ you chose?" he asked. This was getting a little _too _intimate, but the Houses had a rule – an adept could never refuse a request to see a mark. I was no longer an adept, but the rule still applied. I turned and lifted my shirt the smallest amount necessary to show him. I heard him take in his breath – Kylie is a master of her trade.

"_Las __azucenas__ Galbanes_," he murmured – I wondered where all this Rozarrian was coming from. "Is it true what they say – about those who bear the _señal_ of the Galbana being able to sate their patrons and leave them limp and wrung out with desire in their own hallucinations?"

I'd never heard it put quite that way. I nodded again.

"Ah! How I could use one of such talents!" He examined me with a critical eye. "Would you consider joining me?"

I blinked. "You mean, become one of your 'birds'?"

He smiled. "Precisely. And, in return, you will be well cared for, wanting for nothing. You would be considered one of my household. And there would be certain other… _benefits_," he lingered over the word.

Here again was another man who thought himself irresistible. But this time, he was wrong – I had no heart left to give, or even for another to touch. What wasn't dead of grieving was taken up by Basch. There was no question of accepting his offer. Now the only problem was how to break it delicately. I didn't know the proper manoeuvre of courtly language, so I said it straight.

"No, thank-you," I said politely, bowing. "You do me a great honour, truly, but I have duties elsewhere. I must respectfully decline."

Al-Cid raised an eyebrow. "You cannot mean the coming battle… But, you are a courtesan, are you not? Contracted to one of the men – Balthier Bunansa, perhaps?"

I would have laughed at his misconception had it not been so close to the truth. "No, my lord. I am a courtesan no longer, but a sky pirate, and a full member of this party, with a partner to return to when all is done."

Al-Cid's look of incredulity deepened – I could tell he didn't quite believe me. "Well, I can see you are not interested. I am sorry to intrude on you like this. Another time perhaps…" and he glided out the door. I sighed – Al-Cid was the type not easily put off. I could not imagine a day coming when I might acquiesce. With a shrug, I readied for bed.

* * *

**A/N: **Next week...


	31. Confessions

**Disclaimer: **Vitality before disclaimer.

**A/N: **Here it is. The chapter you've all been waiting for (or not, as the case may be). I didn't want to give anything away beforehand, fearing retribution (or lack of interest), which is why the author's note at the end of the previous chapter didn't say what was coming. I would like to make an impassioned plea to every single one of you hitting this page. _Please_ review! This time, it's not just for my own satisfaction. I want to know what _you _think. I've agonized over every word of this chapter, and most of it was written even before the Pharos sequence. This is the first time I've really made assumptions about canon in this way, and I want to know how I've done. Please, it only takes a second to press the review button, and then you can even just write 'yay!'... or something else, if you didn't like it. But this is arguably the most important chapter I've ever written for any of my stories, and any suggestions or constructive criticism would be greatly, greatly appreciated. Thanks in advance, and I'll be looking forward to hearing from each and every one of you.  
That said, I truly hope you enjoy this chapter. It was fun to write, and I hope it will be just as fun to read (and _review_! ;)

* * *

All was now set in order – there was nothing more to be done. I had resolved to see this through to the end, and I would, for the love not only of one, but of all that I had traveled with for so long. I didn't know what strength awoke in me, nor what further stores of courage I would need to draw on to survive this. But I had my friends beside me – that was enough. It would have to be enough.

There came a soft knock at the door. I looked up, surprised – who could be calling on me at this hour? Surely not Al-Cid again – such that I did not respond for several moments. The knock was repeated.

I opened my mouth to respond, and then remembered what the gesture put me in mind of. Knowing it could only be one person on the other side of the door, I hesitated once more. After a longer silence, the knock came a third time, and I had an instinctive feeling that it would not be repeated.

"Enter," I called, voice trembling slightly. A pause, and then the door swung open.

"Did I wake you?" he asked solicitously. I shook my head, unable to speak. How long had it been since I'd been alone with him? I didn't care to guess. Balthier stood on the threshold. The plain sight of him was almost painful.

"Won't you… come in?" I asked, finding my awkward voice at last.

One side of his mouth quirked, but the expression was bitter. "You're saying you'll still let me in your room, after all?" I frowned, the words sending a jolt through me. So even after all my efforts, he had noticed my pain? And now he thought I was mad at him. He had cause, of course – any rational being would be.

"Don't be silly," I said, clearing my throat in an effort to keep my voice light. He shook his head, but stepped inside. It was obvious to both of us who was being the silly one here.

Having him there was more difficult than I'd thought it would be. The urge to run to him and bowl him over with the force of my embrace was nearly overpowering. But that would not help matters now.

Balthier shut the door behind him, but came no further. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, a sight which only served to confuse me more. A sudden fear gripped me. Had he come to break off the last strands of our non-existent relationship? Had he come to tell me to leave the group, that my presence was no longer welcome? I cringed away from that scenario.

"What can I do for you?" I asked. My voice didn't tremble this time. If that was the case, I was ready to fight tooth and nail for my right to go to _Bahamut._ Basch would back me up, and Penelo and Vaan. Probably Fran as well, though she might not want a rift with her partner. But if _he _asked it, for himself, I would do it. I would try to hate him for it, but I would do anything, be anyone, just for him.

Balthier took a step closer to where I sat on the bed.

"You can listen," he said, but his voice was soft, and the statement was a request, not a command. He looked at me to gauge my reaction, and I shut my mouth, cutting off the reply I'd been about to make. It was as good a response as any. Seeing it, he began.

"I… owe you an apology," he said. "I've been a right bastard, and you 'd be perfectly within your rights to throw me out of this room. That's what I thought you wanted, at the beginning, so I thought I'd save you the trouble." He glanced at me again. My mouth had fallen open by this point, and he gave a wry smile only slightly less bitter than the last one.

"I wanted to…" he let out a great gust of air, turning away from me and running his hand through his hair in apparent irritation. The resulting unkemptness didn't suit him. "Why is this happening to me?" he asked in a frustrated voice, mostly to himself. "This never happens to me."

The words were doing nothing to reassure. "I daresay it doesn't," I said, worry and confusion making my voice sharper than I'd intended. "You usually choose your… companions with more care. Lucky me."

Balthier winced as though I'd physically struck him. "No, that's not what I meant – "

"And you don't owe me anything, while we're on the subject." I cut him off. "Especially not an apology. I made my peace with it, and so should you. I accepted it long ago – this is just how life _is_ with you. I've known it for a long time, and I suppose I've been expecting this for just as long. Going against your own nature now will not help matters."

He winced again, and this time his brow remained furrowed.

"No. Listen," he begged a second time. "I have to tell you, but… perhaps I'd best start at the beginning. Do you mind if I sit?" he asked, actually waiting for me to shake my head before drawing out a chair.

"Siyana… you will remember, of course, the first time we met," he said. I blinked. When he said the beginning, he meant it. Of course I remembered – how could I forget? I waited for him to continue.

"It progressed like any other night," he said, "and for a while it was nothing more. I won you in the way I always did, time-honoured strategies holding firm (though with considerably more enjoyment in it that I could ever remember). Still, nothing to cause concern. Yet you held your own, something that was pleasantly surprising. And when we talked…"

"I said judge, and you freaked," I interrupted, remembering. "I thought it was so… bizarre, at the time. Now I know why."

"I… was mostly out of it," Balthier admitted. "I'd been traveling and heisting for a while (not to mention smothering some errant desires), and you gave me some of the best sex I'd had in a long time. You were perceptive. I liked that. And it was those thoughts that occupied me while I watched you sleep."

That broke my concentration for a moment. He had been watching me? The thought was very… comforting, satisfying.

"By the next morning, I'd made my decision. The gifts you had were too precious to waste away in a second-rate whorehouse. So I bought you out. It was surprisingly difficult to leave, but I brushed it off as a sentimental reaction to a very good night and went off to Bhujerba with Vaan. I'd said you were free, but even then, I made assumptions. That night should have proved to me that you had a mind of your own, but I still figured you'd stick to something close to your original profession – become an escort for a minor lordling or somewhat. I thought to put you out of mind, but you always sidled back in during quiet times, when I wondered what had happened to you, what you were doing. I wrote it off as no more than a passing interest in an admittedly large personal investment. I resolved to look into the matter when everything blew over.

"But you found me, that day in the Sandsea. Again, you managed to surprise me. I'd never thought that you'd actually try to _follow_ me – I knew the dangers of my profession and there was some part of me that didn't want you facing them. As you talked, I kept refilling your drink. I had two motives. One was to see if I could get you back in my bed – I wanted to prove to myself that the sex could be as good as I remembered. The second reason became more apparent as time went on – I wanted to make you spill the name of your partner. But even in advanced stages of drunkenness, you never did. That, too, surprised me, and I was unaccustomed to being foiled.

"What happened afterwards, you will recall as clearly as I. That tidbit about the anti-conception magicks was an unexpected relief, but I found that you were right. I was willing to take the risk.

"I could think of any number of reasons why that was unwise, most of them after the fact, and they were all the mantras I'd been repeating to myself for years: sky pirate's life, incompatible personalities, conflicting duties… not to mention my vow off love – all the things that had been successful in dismissing any interests in the past. But this time as they ran through my head, for the first time I was able to gainsay them. Were we not both sky pirates? Had I not just been thinking that we fit so well together – intellectually and otherwise? We shared many of the same interests… but the fact remained that we were both tied to partners, and I to an even higher cause. We parted, but I was… unsettled, to say the least. Something was different about you, and I spent a lot of time trying to figure it out – much more than that cynical part of me thought I should.

"The party spent longer in Rabanastre than I'd planned, and when I saw you again… I was suddenly overwhelmed by more feelings than I could handle. Foremost among them was the fact that you had crossed the line from my personal to my public life, and I was not prepared for it. But I was also happy to see you – too happy.

"It was the happy part of me that finally agreed to keep you. I should have left you for the Imperials, but I wasn't quite able to do it. Blayne and I have been friends for years (most well-known sky pirates know each other – it's in our best interests to keep abreast of what the others are doing), and we've had a rivalry going for most of them. When I saw him in the hangar, I knew immediately what he was up to – you'd told him your story, and he was trying to make sure it continued."

I felt my mouth drop open at this second, greater shock. Blayne had known all along! He had been trying to help me?

"So there you were, bound to travel with us. I was appalled. I couldn't believe that this was happening. Now there was no escape from the thoughts that I didn't want to be having. I resolved to ignore you as much as possible.

"But as I fought with you, I kept uncovering facets of your personality. You took on a warm, personal quality that you'd never had before. You were afraid of snakes. You were glad to have met me. Now I didn't even have the 'conflicting duties' excuse, since we were both on the same quest, and all that was left was the vow I had taken – that forbade me to give any part of myself in love. The more time I spent around you, the more its stern tenets began to fade. It… frightened me. You couldn't just be written off as the latest whore I'd seduced any more. You'd become something else, and that was terrifying. There were so many ways for me to get caught in a reprise of previous events – so many ways you could leave the party – or die.

"It was that latter that kept me protecting you, perhaps more than you knew. I did my utmost to ensure you were never on watch, because I couldn't keep an eye on you when I was asleep. I tried to keep your fighting down to a minimum, too, but the others were getting suspicious. Above all, I had to make sure you never discovered my efforts. I could never let you know how much I cared for you, because I sensed that the only thing holding you back from pursuing your own feelings was a perceived antipathy on my part. If you forced your hand, I didn't know how I would respond, and I shied away from that uncertainty."

I blinked. So, he really hadn't minded protecting me at all!

"And I kept discovering more. That day I taught you to swim, and we made love afterwards… I suddenly realized it was no longer about the sex. That was unexpected and confusing. It had never _not_ been about the sex since that first time I'd loved. If I hadn't been able to handle my feelings when it was simply a sexual attraction, how much more difficult could it become?

"I saw you with Basch. At first, I thought it was hilarious, and I was glad to see you finally getting some fun from your sexuality. Getting Basch to loosen up had been high on my list of priorities for some time.

"But then I saw the looks Basch started giving you – not with his face, which still retained the horror – but with his eyes. And I began to feel threatened. What if this whole thing _wasn't_ a façade for your own morbid amusement? What if you had actually tired of me and were trying to get Basch to notice you?

"I thought about it a lot that night. With all the blinding clarity of hindsight, I could see it: Basch was stable, caring, considerate… everything I wasn't. Was it really so unexpected that you would want a man in your life who you would never have to second-guess? I resolved to try to be more kind towards you, however I could. I knew we were going into Tchita the next day – lots of snakes. The perfect opportunity. The cynical side of me, however, was happy. If it turned out you chose Basch instead of me, my vow would never be in jeopardy. Problem solved. Why that was so painful, I didn't know.

"In the end, it was a compromise. I protected you, but I tried to look like I didn't want to. Let you make what you would of that."

My mind reeled. I felt like I couldn't take any more in. Everything, then, had just been an act? And, indeed, I had taken it in two ways. I had been immensely grateful, of course, but I'd also believed he thought it a chore. It appeared I'd been fooled.

"To my satisfaction (and confusion), it seemed to work. You were open with your affections in front of the entire party, which, though I took it with large amounts of chagrin, was a decided improvement. But what if it was in response to Basch's reaction?"

A flush rose to my face. It had been, in the beginning, but I had been happy enough for its effect.

"It couldn't have come at a worse time," Balthier said, noting my blush with a wry nod. "Sochen loomed on the edge of my thoughts, tainting all my actions. I knew it was going to be harder to keep up my façade while we were inside – I wouldn't have the ability to act with you, too. Add that to my intense jealousy, and I might just have snapped. I resolved to go back to avoiding you as much as possible. It would be safest, I thought.

"But you still cared for me, even when nothing was wrong – well, nothing I could tell you, or that you could fix. I felt bad for lashing back at you like that – I was well aware that the strain I was under was completely of my own making, and it wasn't your fault at all.

"So I tried to apologize. Not only did you forgive me, but you said something very interesting. You wanted to 'figure me out'. You wished I would let you in – the inference being, I surmised, not only that you realized that this was not the real me and wanted to get to know me better, but that you were willing to wait for me to do it on my own time. But I wasn't ready for that to happen yet. You may have thought nothing of it, and I brushed it off, but it stayed in the back of my mind, like a pot simmering on a stove. Sooner or later, it would boil over.

"We entered Sochen a second time. I'd thought, since I knew what to expect, that I would be able to handle it better. Instead, knowing exactly what it would feel like, I dreaded it, and that made it worse. I was very brusque with everyone – Ashe, you, even Fran. As if you needed another reason to hate me." We both flinched as the word came out.

"Fran told you the story… of the first time," Balthier continued. "I tried not to pay attention. I'd given her permission, on a whim. You wanted to know more about me: so be it. I couldn't tell you myself, however – not only was the memory too fresh, but I feared that, if I told you, the dam would burst and I would say everything.

"I gave in to temptation only once, at the end, and turned to gauge your reaction. An astonishing thing happened. Your face lit up. There's no other way to describe it. There's always a subtle change in your demeanour when I'm around you, but this was different. I was looking for scorn, but found only compassion, and something else, something so profound that I didn't think I was ready to face it. Again, you managed to baffle me.

"Then came the Crystalbug battle. Only you, Siyana, could thing of joint-casting Silence on a Crystalbug with a viera.

"And that night… that night I learned something. You were not a constant – and I was taking you for granted. I had been looking forward to being with you – we never made love as much I as would have liked. Of course you would be tired after the joint-casting, and I had no problem with that. I thought I was ready to offer you my bedroll anyway. Sleeping together without sex was something unfamiliar to me, but I was willing to give it a try. At the last moment, however, I thought that I might not be able to restrain myself, being so close to you, and might make a fool of myself. To cover up the embarrassment, I said something quite cruel. Was it any surprise, then, that you went and got comfort from Basch?

"I lay awake that night for a long time, wondering if I hadn't made a very large mistake. I envisioned any number of scenarios going on between you in that tent, and I could feel despair creeping up on me, a feeling that I am not accustomed to having. Had I squandered my last chance?

"Seeing the two of you in the morning, it seemed I had. All my worst fears confirmed, I didn't know what to do. Would this become another tale for Fran to tell the next one to come along? The difference was, this time, the fault was all mine, and there was some part of me that didn't want there to be a 'next one'.

"Then, of course, you nearly killed yourself in that Lich battle, and I was given a wake-up call. I couldn't believe how much the thought of losing you hurt – the sensation scared me. You must understand, Siyana; I had been lying to myself for so long that whenever I was presented with a true emotion my immediate reaction was to smother it. I couldn't fail to notice that it was you who was awakening all these long-dormant impulses, and to me that was both a good and a bad thing.

"The way I saw it, I had two options. I could, knowing this, get in deeper with you. Or I could stop here, before it went any further, into dangerous, uncertain territory. I felt more strongly about you than I had about anyone else – at this point, it just meant to me that there was more chance of me getting hurt. Coward to the end, I let it lie, content to do nothing as yet, leaving things as they were, the decision hanging like an axe over my head, ready to fall and end everything.

"If there was ever a good time for me to be in Archades, his was most certainly not it. Weighed down with all these considerations and emotions I didn't know what to do with, the last thing I needed was to have the festering sore of my past ripped open. It had been a while since I'd been to my mother's garden – it had just seemed too painful for me. But now I wanted a chance to rest and think, and it seemed the best place to do it. I told Fran I didn't want her to come with me, that I didn't want any company at all. She just gave me one of those smiles.

"I took the long route to the Arcade, just… thinking. Oddly enough, I missed you, even though you were part of the reason I was alone. Certainly there was no question of you seeing anything of me with my guard down.

"But again, you came to me, screaming my name down that alley. At first I didn't know that you had followed me, only that the party might be in trouble. When I saw the situation you were in, I waited only a brief moment. How could I have been the one you'd thought of first?

"And then suddenly I was furious. They were taking your most precious gift, taking your choice – something that I had been unable to bear from the beginning. I could quite happily have killed them all on the spot, but as that would have undoubtedly attracted the attention of the city watch, it wasn't much of an option. I remembered the Judge's chop in my pocket – why I'd kept it all these years was beyond me. I used the power that I'd sworn myself off for so long - in order to keep you safe. But I wasn't thinking that at the time. All could think was 'Not her.'

"Leaving without ripping those bastards limb from limb was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but keeping a hold on you kept things in perspective. When you thanked me, so desperately and sincerely…" He shook his head. "There was that profundity again. But I was even less equipped to deal with it now than the last time. I should have left you to find your own way back to the party, regardless of the danger. Instead, the pot that had been simmering for a while boiled over at last.

"You had always been perceptive. Now you took all I loaded off on you with calm kindness and compassion. I was prepared to feel relief, having you know everything. What I didn't expect was to feel glad – glad that you accepted whatever my past had to throw at you. I was so grateful that you had known I was wrong, that I had needed someone with me. Yet I will own, it was strange. 'Opening up' was such a foreign concept to me: I'd never even done it with one of my own species. And every time I looked at you I was reminded that you, this whore I had come across by chance and freed on a whim, held the secrets I'd been hiding from the world for so long in your head. Truth to tell, I found it difficult to think of you as a whore any more. You were a companion, a friend, a sometimes-lover… of course, only in those unguarded moments when you crept into my mind. What else you could be I dared not think. I've always been good at repressing things. Fran says it will be my undoing. I wonder if she might not be right…" He stared off pensively into space for a moment or two. I was glad – I needed time to recover. Soon, however, the rush of words was on again.

"In any case, I felt like I needed some kind of tangible way to express my thanks, so when you suggested 'fun', I knew what I wanted to do. Eleonor is a friend of mine from way back – we've known each other for years. You had your tutor in the bedroom arts – Eleonor was mine, in a way. I discovered her at the Archades House early on. Our sessions were… mostly didactic, and we kept in touch. I knew she would take you under her wing.

"Afterwards, being with the rest of the party seemed strange, at first. We were back to Basch's furtive looks, Ashe's elusive charms." The sound of the princess' name, too, made me flinch. Luckily, Balthier was engrossed in his tale and didn't notice.

"I was mostly distracted," he continued, "trying to imagine what was in that nondescript brown bag at the bottom of your pack. But talking with Ashe brought everything crashing back to me. I'd never really forgotten the reason we were in the capital, but it just seemed pushed to the side when I was with you. Now my mind was taken up entirely with thoughts of the upcoming confrontation. It had been six years since I'd seen Ci-… my father," he forced out through clenched teeth. Since the Pharos, he had been forcing himself to use the endearment. "I knew how it would have to end – in the death of one or the other. This was now entirely my affair, yet in some bizarre quirk of fate (proof, I think, that the gods are laughing at me), my family matters were now tied up with Ashe's interests, and those of Ivalice. I'd hoped to settle things on a somewhat smaller scale, but the gods know me well – nothing else would have made me stop running.

"My emotions were effectively put on hold for the next little while – I've gotten good at that little skill, too – it's a useful trait during interrogations. There was nothing in my mind but the maniac drive to confront my father and put an end to this. I didn't watch Fran's back, and I didn't care about protecting you. The memories that flooded me came from every side, and there was nowhere I could turn without being reminded of him… or her." He hesitated before referring to his mother.

"I won't trouble you with everything that went through my mind during that time – suffice it to say that it kept me occupied. I didn't even notice I was driving you so hard until Ashe stopped me. The words she said were inconsequential. It was the tone, the inference. She, too, had lost a father. You must understand, Siyana," here he looked up and fixed me with his eyes, and I was ensorcelled by the power of his gaze, "what your father did was unspeakable and I consider him as lost as mine. I do not downplay your suffering. But to have a family member cut down in cold blood… that is something only someone who has experienced it can truly understand. Of course, the circumstances were different, but in that moment, I felt that she truly _understood_ me, without a word being spoken. And the way she tried to defend me against my father… was attractive. Ever since I'd met her, I'd been drawn to Ashe's assertiveness, something that I'd never felt before," he said, with a nod at me. I hardly even noticed. "I wasn't sure which one would come out on top – I wanted to find out. Of course when we were facing my father, I wasn't thinking about any of that.

"But when you threw yourself on top of me…" His eyes darkened. I held my breath, unable to look away. "I was horrified. The fact that there was another human being willing to die for me (remembering, of course, that Fran is not human), was shocking. For a while, you and my mother were inseparable in my mind. Now that I'd begun to deal with the pain of her death, the anger I'd been repressing welled up and lashed out at the nearest target – you.

"Not only did my long-simmering anger bring out the worst in my memories of my mother, it brought out the worst in you, too. I remembered your interludes with Basch and the way you awakened my awkward and uncomfortable emotions… and I pushed you away.

"I almost repented, hearing you scream my name – but in this case my hardened heart worked against my interests and made it possible to ignore you. I was grateful to Ashe for her help and support, and I told myself that that was all I needed to move on.

"I was struck by how you looked at supper the next night. It wasn't only that you were clean and the clothes suited you – you had a look of determination about you that I'd only seen when you fought. I should have known – it was a battle you were preparing for, and the enemy was me.

"I did have a suspicion that I'd be getting a visit from someone after supper: days of rest tend to have that effect on people's hormones, and the manse was one of the best places to do it. I was a little surprised to see you; of all the possible candidates, you'd always been the most submissive.

"Past events had driven our stop at Eleonor's completely out of my mind, and seeing you in that chemise was… breathtaking. But it was your words, and not your looks, that defeated my mask, something that no one else had ever done. And in that moment, when I took you with such ferocity, I felt nearly predatorial, like I wanted to mark you as my own. That morning, I came closer than I'd ever gotten to saying the words, telling you how much I cared… but there were still the wastes of six years of denial to cross, and your efforts had but started me on the journey.

I blinked. My _efforts? _I'd only followed my own selfish desires, blundering around, making mistakes… or so I'd thought. But Balthier seemed to hold me blameless in all things. It was a mystery.

"Back in Golmore, it seemed like something had changed between you and Basch, and I was fairly certain that I was the catalyst. I wasn't sure if I'd done you any favours, making Basch cooler towards you. But if that was the cost of balance, I was willing to take it. It was a sense of guilt, though, that kept me from pressing my advantage.

"And then you discovered snow." His teeth flashed in a grin. "I was slightly anxious, of course, but mostly I just felt an odd… tenderness, something, I suppose, in response to your helplessness. Yet another thing I'd never felt before.

"I forgot all about it, though, when we encountered the Mist-Storm. I saw my father there, just as he had been before my mother's death, the way I tried not to remember him, or it weakened my resolve. This was the man I had come to destroy. I knew, from Draklor, how hard it would be to face him. I tried to deepen my conviction. That was no longer Cid. My father was dead.

"By the time we fought Raffelesia, I'd been shaken out of it for the time being, mostly because I realized that my distraction had made me miss out on a chance to save you. I wanted to protect you through the battle, but things were just too chaotic.

"When you nearly risked your life to give me a Vaccine, I couldn't help but have flashes of our last boss battle, and fear made me sharp. I didn't think I could handle a repeat. But yet again you proved that you had a mind of your own. Accepting that you could take care of yourself was difficult for me. When _you_ ended up saving _me_, I discovered that you were slowly becoming an equal partner in this odd relationship, and I wondered what it foreboded. I was starting to like the thought of having you around, and I lived in a state of constant unease. Everything was so strange.

"That night, when I dared to put a name to what you were, I found it to be the least of my discoveries. Myself being a little bit of a sadist, it really wasn't a major thing. What mattered was your reaction. I wasn't the only person with insecurities in this relationship, and for as often as I exploited yours, I often lost sight of it. I am not accustomed to comforting others, so I wasn't sure if I was doing the right things. But you seemed to take to it well enough.

"In South Feywood, I was looking for an excuse to protect you from the Basilisks, but all that was soon swept away by the voice I heard in my head: it was yours. I had been about to speak when Vaan piped up. When he said that he'd heard both you and Penelo, I knew. He'd had a schoolboy crush on you for a while, and of course, I knew how he felt about Penelo. Then Basch said he'd heard you, too, and not only was I jealous, but I was nervous. He was better than me in so many ways for you, and I was still unsure of your feelings for him. Not to mention that now even the supernatural world was telling me I was in love with you. I didn't know what to do.

"Once again, however, personal matters were pushed aside in favour of family matters. The upcoming confrontation loomed large in my mind, and the only thing I could think was that this was the place my father had found his madness. And I was terrified of it happening to me; I, who had already felt the dark stirrings of desire for the value of the nethicite's power. It made me cruel. I would never have asked you to kill me otherwise.

"There were distractions, of course – my normal concern during the boss battle, tenderness over Ashe's obvious fear of heights, and confusion: your skill at cartography should not have extended to place names of an ancient civilization, but they did. I didn't know how or why, and the anomaly preyed on my already troubled mind.

"The Great Crystal was… beautiful. I wasn't expecting that. And despite my worst fears, I could feel no errant fey moods targeting me. That, coupled with your assurances, led me to an understanding – nethicite was not an inherent danger in itself. It was merely a tool – albeit a seductive and deadly one. And once I accepted that, it made everything so much easier. I went ahead with my plan.

"This plan had been growing in my mind for some time, ever since South Feywood. Although I dearly wanted to be in your bed for your name-day and make it the night of your life, I had been unable to give Fran anything meaningful for her name-day for some time (she always insists she has everything she needs, and the concept of luxury is foreign to her), and now I had the opportunity to give her something special. I daresay you both enjoyed yourselves."

I gave an involuntary smile, remembering that night.

"Then, of course, we fought Tyrant and Ashe nearly fell. My only thought at first was to rescue her, but then something kicked in (I suppose you might call it my ladies' instinct) and I held her just that little bit longer. I had no doubts about what would have come next – save for the fact that next we were in the Great Crystal, and I was still waiting for myself to go mad.

"This time, though, it was you that distracted me. I was fascinated and more than a little confused by how you knew the names of the places, and I enjoyed our little banter immensely. I was given yet another reminder of your inferiority complex, and I decided that something was going to have to be done about it, so I let my previous question go without a fight. I was diverted a little bit by the nethicite motherlode and the mystery of the whereabouts of my father, but soon I remembered my question again. As you answered, apart from being shocked at how small the world was and how deeply we were connected, I was also brought to the realization that I'd been involved with you all this time and I hadn't known this most important of things. I was getting in far too deep with you, and my sudden burst of anxiety and affection for Ashe after the Occuria's charge helped me to come to the decision I'd been putting off for some while – it was time to say goodbye."

I stiffened. It was difficult for me to hear this. I'd known it was coming, but I was still stunned. So this had been premeditated! And so early!

"My father had tricked me – I saw that immediately. I'd all but led Ashe into a trap. I allowed myself to focus on that, trying not to think about what I had resolved to do. But when I saw you there, in the tavern, I realized that it was going to be harder than I'd thought. This, of course, only toughened my resolve, but I decided that I wouldn't let you go without giving you a proper goodbye – and that included showing you the workings of the _Strahl_ – she had to see you off, too.

"It was easy to forget, while we worked, what I had to do, and so I thought nothing of coming onto you in the shower until you reminded me of our time constraints. This added one more thing to my to do list: _I_ had to say goodbye – make love to you one last time. It would be the best sex either of us had ever had, and I would remember it when I moved on.

"And my plan seemed to work. I enjoyed that night more than any other night of my life – and believe you me, that's saying something. _That's enough, _I told myself. _I don't need any more. Now I can leave her be._"

I stared. I didn't understand. Wasn't _I _the guilty partner in this relationship? Wasn't I the one not good enough? Hadn't I been the one saying all the awkward things? But I couldn't make my lips move, make the words come out. I was frozen.

"I had been getting an odd feeling, and the closer I got to the Pharos, the stronger it became: this act was drawing to a close, and the curtain was to fall on someone; who more likely than the leading man?

"It was what made me even more resolved to segue onto Ashe – if I had limited time, there was no time like the present. It'd tied things up with you, I reasoned, and with the _Strahl_ (though it pained me to do so) – I needed to satisfy my 'curiosity' with Ashe, if anything were to happen."

My stomach clenched – I remembered just how nearly something had happened to Balthier, and in that hindsight his reasoning was flawless.

"I won't trouble you with the details – suffice it to say that we flirted, heavily. I let the thrill fill me, the challenge of the chase, which I never failed to enjoy." Here he gave me a half-serious, half-playful look. "It was something, Siyana, that, notwithstanding your considerable charms and skills, you had never given me. You weren't exactly all that hard to win." I was forced to agree. "I hadn't yet come to the realization that that which yields is not always weak, and that not only the ones that played hard to get were worthy.

"Of course, I had lapses. I was trying very hard to pretend I didn't still care for you, but when Reddas pulled that stunt with Hydro…" he broke off, shaking his head. "Zecht, forgive me – anyway, I lost it. I couldn't stand that he'd stolen my idea and ended up trumping me in rank, then endangered your life to boot. He deserves better than that, now, not to mention that they were petty differences, quite frankly. His past was perhaps more haunted than mine, and he did great things for Balfonheim. As for outranking me, well… I'd conveniently forgotten that he'd outranked me in Archades, too, and I'd 'run away' to escape rank altogether. But I wouldn't talk to you – that would certainly undermine all my efforts. I couldn't help but think about the things you'd said that last night – the things I tried not to think about because they showed just how in love with me you really were. I had been unfair to you, but I was only protecting myself now, and everything else got pushed to the wayside.

"Of course, it wouldn't be a true chase if the subject didn't put up a bit of a fight. Ashe was understandably surprised at my change in behaviour, so she went to you, ironically, to escape my advances. I was patient. I could wait. Through endless flights of stairs, through the dreadful boss battle in the parallel dimension, I awaited my chance to strike. When I found that Fool's Façade, right after we fought that fish creature, I didn't stop to think. I just acted. I drew her away and…"

"I know." I couldn't stop the words – I couldn't bear to hear any more. "I saw."

He blinked. "You did. I wondered if you had. Well, I don't need to tell you, all hell broke loose. Reddas/Zecht was more sullen than ever; Basch, of all people, was shooting me murderous glances, and Fran… Fran was _ignoring_ me." His voice was mortified. "Ashe… well. She kisses well, but she's a terrible conversationalist. So single-minded. And even if she likes you, she's as liable to bite your head off as look at you."

The flood of words halted. There was silence for a while as I wondered what was happening.

"So that's it?" I made my voice as scathing as I could – it was difficult. "You didn't _lie _with her, after all that?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Well, now that you mention it, we did. Truth to tell, my experiment was already a failure – I knew that we weren't compatible. But I'd taken things this far, so I figured I might as well go all the way. Perhaps unsurprisingly, my experiment was a failure there, too. Ashe may be domineering and stubborn in public, but in private she's extremely submissive – almost to your level, Siyana. She has an incredibly high pain tolerance, but she gets no pleasure in it, so I get none. Not to mention that she cried out entirely the wrong name when she climaxed – at least with you I know you're not thinking about someone else… especially your dead husband. Turns out all she wanted me for was a substitute for Rasler. Entirely not my thing. And she's not nearly as good as you, in all areas, trained as you are."

This time I did not have to feign scorn. "So Ashe wasn't up to your expectations, and now you're coming back to me to get your fill? Am I just some kind of substitute for you?"

He actually flinched. "It's true, this is not helping my case, and I can see why you would think that way, but please let me finish. I just kept missing you, kept comparing her to you – her looks, her gestures, the way she talked. She matched you for passion, but not much else. I realized now what I had ignored all along – she wasn't genuinely interested in me, like you were. And I suppose what this long, rambling monologue has been leading up to is what that shrine in Giruvegan and my subconscious and Fran's looks have been trying to tell me all along: there was not an echo of Ashe's voice in the voiceless words. I love you, Siyana, you and only you. It must be hard to believe, after everything I've put you through, but I hope you understand why a little better. That doesn't excuse me, I know. So don't try to spare my feelings, please – just tell me now whether or not you can still love me, after everything I've done to you. Can you?"

"What the hell kind of idiotic question is that?"

He nodded grimly. "Guess I set myself up for that one." He shrugged, beginning to rise. "Well, thanks for listening." But his eyes told a different story from his nonchalant gestures. With a shock, I read in those eyes that what he was saying was the truth. I, who had had so much experience reading his mask, knew he meant what he said. I grabbed his wrist, stopping him, too stunned to form a rational response. At last, after so much longing, I had heard him say the words. Of course, this could all be a silver-tongued exploitation to get more sex out of me, but at the moment I didn't care. It was incomprehensible because it was impossible.

He waited while I worked, moving my mouth incoherently. I gave up, finally, and stood on shaky legs, stepping forward to kiss him. After a moment of startled stillness, he returned it with more force, hands closing around my face. I felt then as I'd never allowed myself to feel in his embrace before – wanted. _Loved. __**Good enough**_. And I discovered that I loved how it felt.

"The way I feel about you will never change," told him, remembering all the myriad times I'd thought it to myself without being able to voice it. "Of course I love you – there's nothing you can do about it!"

"That's all I needed to hear."

Then his lips were on mine, urgent and passionate. This kiss was not quite as careful as the others I remembered, which suited me just fine. My heart pounded out a jagged, disjointed rhythm while my breathing turned to panting and my fingers moved greedily to his face. I could feel his body against every line of mine, and I pressed myself against him, our tongues twining in an intricate dance. I'd forgotten his taste: not floral or spice, citrus or sweet. Balthier tasted of the sky. Nothing in the world could compare.

When I was starting to get dizzy, I pulled away, only to lay my head against his shoulder.

"Can I say something now?" I asked. When he nodded, I lifted my head to look into his eyes.

"I. Love. You." I felt an indescribable rush at finally being able to say the words aloud – and know that they were returned. It was an effervescence – a fizzy bubbling that began at my toes and rose all the way to the top of my head. I was so giddy I could have laughed, and found that I was sobbing. "I love you. I love you. _I love you_." I was shaking and I couldn't stop – the swelling of emotion was too much for me. Balthier held me, rocking me back and forth, wiping my tears and making soothing noises.

"It's all right, Siyana. I'm sorry. Everything's going to be fine."

I couldn't control my mouth – I just kept whispering the same three words over and over again; for all the times I hadn't been able to say them in the past. "I know," Balthier replied, kissing me at intervals, "I love you, too."

At length my breathing calmed and my sobs slowed and quieted.

"Are you done?" Balthier asked, with only a hint of wryness. I looked at him with new eyes, a new look.

"Not even remotely close," I said, drawing him to the bed.

Balthier made it clear: only my desires mattered. Whatever I wanted, I could have.

He stood still before me as I disrobed him – my hands were trembling with the suppressed force of my desire, but I had been well-trained and my movements were deft and unerring as I unclasped his vest from his shoulders. It fell to the floor with a heavy thud, forgotten. Beginning at the throat, I undid each of the buttons of his shirt, my tongue flicking past each one as they parted. My hands traced the planes of his perfect chest, slipping underneath the starched linen to caress it off his arms. It fell away with a whisper. I cupped the angle of his jaw, drew a line down the muscular column of his throat and flattened my palm against his heart, which beat quick and steady beneath the skin. Below, against my skirt, his hardness rose up to meet me, but he knew what he was about. He would do nothing unless I asked it.

"Touch me," I begged in a whisper, clutching him closer. "Hold me, please."

He did. He touched me with reverence, fingertips resting on the sides of my waist, drawing them up in a delicate caress, leaving tingling in his wake. He undid the ties of my braid with smooth softness, coaxing each lock of hair into place, letting it flow over his hands and fall against my back. His hands caressed my face with a touch at once wonderful and strange – I could never remember him doing such a thing to me before. He traced the feathery arch of my brows, the outline of my lips. We embraced and kissed; he held my face in his hands as if it were a precious object, and I swayed like a willow into his kiss.

This is how I pray – to honour Emmeroloth, yes – but Balthier was my god.

Breaking the kiss, I knelt before him, untying the laces of his breeches, his phallus leaping up. I almost went for it, but into my head came the words of my instructor, Ayla. '_It may be hard, sometimes, Siyana, but you must try to pace yourself. If you rush too swiftly through all the pleasures your art has to offer, they will lose their savour.' _So I did not exploit his shaft at once, instead running my hands down his thighs, gently pulling away his pants. His hips twitched – I had used somewhat of my art. I briefly considered stepping away – I am sure he would have appreciated the irony – but that was not what _I _wanted.

With a sigh that was not quite a groan, I set my lips to his straining phallus, taking him deep into my throat. Ah, gods, the feel of his pulse rushing beneath my tongue, the silky touch of his skin filling my mouth! It was perfect, and it was _mine_. Somewhere in the midst I forgot I was pleasuring him and started taking pleasure for me, concentrating on how the subtle movements of his phallus made my mouth erupt with sensation. The muscles in his buttocks were straining – he _wanted _to let go, but held himself. Again, I was forced to admire his restraint. It was part of why I loved him.

I worked my way back up with kisses, wanted to feel every part of him beneath my mouth. I kissed his ankles, the inside of his thighs, his stomach, his chest, the crease of his elbows, his jaw. His body thus memorized, I placed my fingertips lightly on the crown of his head, barely touching his sunkissed hair, then drew them slowly down; down the back of his neck, hot and slick with sweat, over his shoulders, tense with the effort of keeping his composure, down his sculpted arms. I was scarce touching him, framing him as I would a picture, an effigy.

"You are my love," I murmured, kissing his eyelids, his temples, his brow.

"Siyana." The crisp, educated tone of his voice barely held back a rushing river of emotion. "Siyana, if you don't take me now, I fear I shall go mad."

It was something, to hear those words from Balthier's lips. I rolled over (more collapsed) onto the bed, lying upon it and spreading my legs. "This is how much I want you," I said, my voice breaking at the end. This was not me – it was a torment holding him at bay, my need too urgent now. My joy could no longer be contained – too large for one person, I must needs share it with another. "Please. Love me, Ffamran."

He was on the bed in a heartbeat, the blunt head of his shaft nudging my entrance like a wayfarer coming home. It was, I observed, a rather apt comparison.

"Must you even ask?" he muttered, and then pierced me to the core. I let out a delighted gasp, clinging to his neck, wrapping my legs around his waist, arching my back and urging him even deeper. We rode the crests of desire together, coming to climax at exactly the same instant, his seed surging through me and electrifying my whole body, suffusing it with languid pleasure.

Afterward, I clamped my thighs around his softening phallus, preventing it from slipping out. I still wanted us to be joined, still wanted him inside me. He rolled smoothly and I rolled with him, lying atop his strong chest, nestled into the hollow of his throat, cradled by his arms. He stroked my back, my hair, my face.

"You've been holding back on me," he accused. The vibrations of his voice soothed me like the sweetest music.

"Only a little," I said, utterly content. "Only because I thought you wanted me to."

"You are so beautiful," he said in response, and my heart swelled with a love so great I thought I might burst. "Inside and out, and I a fool not to have seen it sooner."

"That doesn't matter now," I told him, before demonstrating in great detail what exactly _did _matter.

I'd only just grasped the beginning of what it meant to be good enough.

* * *

**A/N: **So there! Something for everyone! Some smexyness, Balthier-esque eloquence, angst, and emotional overload. I just wanted poor Siyana to get her payoff - she's been working so hard. I'd just like to comment on a few things, maybe to get people started on their _reviews_ if you're not sure what to say. I deliberately put the line in about "personal matters" getting pushed aside by "family matters", and if I may say so, I think it's a great line. Because the fact is, Balther's family matters aren't personal! Just thought I would point it out. I find it funny, but then I always did have a twisted sense of humour. Also, the length of the chapter worked with me in this case, not just because I was having a lot of fun spilling Balthier's guts and basically telling the entire story from his perspective, but also because Balthier was still very awkward, all the way up to the end, and he was dragging it out as only Balthier can, trying to stave off the inevitable confession (hence the chapter's name. Did any of you pick up on it before you read what was inside?) It wasn't originally intended to be this way, but it turned out really well, in my opinon. Is it yours? Have I jumped the shark? Let me know!

P.S. - I'm sorry for all these review pleas, but this time it's really important to me. I feel really insecure about posting this chapter. If you have any respect for me as a writer, let me know how I could improve! I really do apologize. I won't be so browbeating in the future... as long as you review this time!

**Next week: **_Bahamut_, Lord of the Sky!


	32. The Sky Fortress Bahamut

**Disclaimer: **Little white disclaimers have a way of helping the best of us through hard times.

**A/N: **Thank-you so very very much to everyone who replied to my plea for reviews! I really appreciate every word. I do apologize for my desperation, and assure you that nothing of the kind will happen again (... for a while). For those of you who read but didn't review, I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.  
Now we're getting to the crux of the story, but the story is not finished! No, there is still quite a bit that has to happen before I can bow out, mostly due to my morbid love affair with angst. But I think Siyana deserves her moment of spotlighted glory. The poor girl's had so little to go on.  
I've mentioned it before, but please do go take a look at my Live Journal account (the link is http:// pellaaearien. livejournal. com). Once you take the spaces out, feel free to check out the amazingness of the playlist and the display of my musical taste. There's one song in particular that I'd like everyone who reads this fic (whether they review or not ;) to listen to, and if I've mentioned it before, I think it's worth mentioning again. It's the song _Good Enough_ by Evanescence, and even if you don't like the band, it's worth a listen because it describes Siyana's emotional state absolutely beautifully. I in fact named the story after the song, and it was my inspiration for last week's chapter. So go out and download it now. I'm not kidding. You don't have to pay for it, go to and search for it there. But seriously, get it, listen to it, and then you never have to look at it again.  
Oh, and Happy Hallowe'en for everyone who celebrates it! For everyone who doesn't, have a wonderful night anyway! Enjoy!

* * *

What passed between us that night transcends words. Those who understand what it is to be scorned one's whole life only to find succour in the least likely, most desirable of places, know; those who do not, need not know. I thought I'd never be able to sleep, filled with love and joy and desire, but at last I fell into a deep and dreamless slumber, encircled by his arms, secure in the knowledge seeming years in the making. He _loved_ me. I _completed_ him.

I was so _happy_. And it was a strange and wonderful thing.

When I stirred, twisting sleepily, reaching to seek his body, its absence jolted me fully awake, and I sat bolt upright.

"Morning, love," came the laconic voice. He stood on the balcony, observing my awakening with grave amusement. "Afraid I'd left you?"

A wide smile spread across my face, the events of the previous night flooding back to me in a rush. It was going to be hard to get used to this.

I would love every minute of it.

"Well, one can never be sure," I said, pulling a robe about me and moving to stand beside him, putting an arm about his shoulders. "Of course, the alternative's not the greatest, either," I continued in a joking tone. "I still remember what happened the last time you woke up beside me."

He sighed, turning to wrap me in an embrace. "I have a lot to apologize for, don't I?" he murmured against my hair. I shook my head, drawing him closer, the bruises from the transcendental half of the night twinging wonderfully. "No. You are who you are. I wouldn't want it any other way. I love you."

He raised my lips to his and smothered me with a kiss, his tongue darting swiftly between my parted lips.

"Well, thank the gods for that," he said. "I have enough to answer for as it is." He looked at me seriously. "You're not going to leave me, are you?" It was a revelation like to the one I was going through, a realization, not an uncertainty. I nodded, caressing his face, laughing inwardly at the utter impossibility of my leaving him, now or ever. "I'll be here tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…" I watched his eyes as he took it in, loving him so much it hurt. "As long as you want me to be."

He made a sound deep in his throat. "And if I want you forever?"

I laid my head against his chest, feeling total bliss settle over me like a blanket. "Only forever?"

He gripped me tighter. "Let's hope we get that chance."

His words brought home to me what my joyful abandonment had driven from my head.

"_Bahamut_," I whispered. The word sent a shiver down my spine.

"Yes," he replied, caressing my back. "And the end of all this, one way or another." He paused, regarding me with a frank look. "Would you _consider _staying behind?"

Fear shot through me; I flinched. "You mean, sitting around here, watching the skies, wondering when, or _if_, you'll come back. Not knowing if you're hurt or defeated or worse?" I shook my head. "Not a chance."

He sighed. "Well, it was worth a try. But if I lose you now…" he shrugged, leaving it up to my imagination.

"How do you think I feel?" I cupped his face in my hands, shying away from the dark touch of the thought on my mind. "As long as we're together (and you refrain from any leading man heroics), we'll be fine."

He smiled ruefully. "We'll see."

"About that…" I mused, absently playing with the fringe of his hair. It was impossible to stop touching him. "I'll take my cue from you, okay?"

A line appeared between his flawless eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I gather you're not big on public displays of affection," I explained. "I'll go along with whatever makes you feel most comfortable. Shall we keep hiding it?"

Comprehension dawned in his face. "You love me too much," he said, bending to kiss my brow. He shook his head. "No. I don't think I _could _hide what I'm feeling right now. But let's try to keep focussed… and not to disgust the children," he added jokingly.

I grinned. It would be difficult, not having to hide the random outbursts of affection I had for him, but I was more than willing to give it a try.

"Let's do this," I said firmly.

As we dressed, Balthier continued speaking from where he'd left off, and I listened in fascination, rather than disbelief.

"When you broke your arm, it was like a slap in the face. Just like that Lich battle, but even worse this time – I was actually seeing you in pain. But it was your eyes that shook me – they were absolutely dead. This was what I had feared seeing while I avoided looking at you. When you screamed…" he broke off and shuddered. I ran my fingers through his hair and his eyes lightened. "The thought entered my head that perhaps this was not the only pain you were enduring – that my actions had hurt you, and that was why you weren't the same. I hated that. I am not accustomed to feeling remorse – it was completely unknown to me, and I racked my brain trying to find a way to make it up to you. I was secretly glad you couldn't fight my father – you hadn't the last time, and if he had hurt you on top of my own mistakes, I wasn't sure if I could have borne it. Now he's dead." His voice took on a strange cast – half-relieved, half saddened. I took his hands.

"Are you all right?"

He sighed. "It's what I wanted, I suppose. Does it ever get any better?"

I searched my own, inadequate feelings. "No," I replied. "Not really. It fades, but it never really goes away. In fact, I thought of him in the Pharos, after…" I let my voice trail away, remembering what exactly it had been after – my weeping fit, and I didn't want him to know about that. But he guessed more than I said, and he took me in his arms and comforted me with his lips.

"I'm sorry," I said when I could breathe again. "I shouldn't have said that. I didn't want to say that."

He shook his head. "It was true, though. You thought I'd abandoned you, too. I'm not surprised."

I put my fingers over his lips. "We _will _get past this," I said fiercely. "It doesn't matter any more, I don't care about it. We won't mention it any more, and we will forget it."

He quirked a smile, but his eyes burned. "I have a feeling our roles have been reversed."

I shrugged. "It's what I want."

He gave me a disbelieving look, but took up with his recitation where he'd stopped.

"It took a while for me to think again, to find a purpose. But I found it again in Fran – and in you." He crossed his arms. "Gods! Listen to me. I've gone soft."

I couldn't help it – I started to giggle. But underneath the humour was the truth that we both knew, and didn't need to say. He hadn't gone soft. He'd gone _human_. And it was a very good thing. He shook his head self-depreciatingly. "We should get going," Balthier said. I straightened up immediately and followed him out the door.

"We'll be taking the _Strahl_, then?" I asked as we walked. He nodded, face glowing as he spoke of his ship. "I wasn't sure if we would be able to after our escape, but she's in surprisingly good shape – you're an artist with the stabilizers."

I smiled – that was a high compliment, coming from Balthier.

He hesitated before adding, "if anything _does _happen to Fran and me, would you consider taking her?"

I paled. "No. Absolutely not. Something filled with so much of you…" I shook my head. "I wouldn't be able to handle it."

He nodded. "Fair enough. Vaan can take her then." He pretended to shudder.

"Besides," I said, "whatever happens to you, happens to me, too. We're in this together now, remember?"

Balthier held up my hand, which had somehow found its way to interlace itself with his. "How could I forget?"

I snatched my hand back. "I'm sorry!"

He very deliberately took my hand in his again, then frowned. "This is so bizarre," he admitted.

"It does take some getting used to," I agreed.

"Let's get this over with, then," he said, and pushed open the door to the dining salon.

Everyone was there, and for a while no-one noticed anything odd. Then Fran's ear twitched in our direction as we walked to a table. Ashe looked up from her food. Vaan cocked his head. Penelo grinned. And Basch… Basch _smiled _at me.

Fran caught my eye and inclined her head ever so slightly. She was acknowledging me! For my success?

There was silent awe at the table as Balthier and I sat side-by-side. I was worried about the effect this regard would have on Balthier, but I needn't have. His face assumed its trademark smirk, the one that hinted at a cat's self-satisfied pleasure even as it concealed half-guessed secrets.

The familiar sight immediately eased the mood at the table. Vaan resumed talking to Penelo, a slight giggle in his voice – he thought himself so wise. Ashe joined in their conversation – it had something to do with the Sandsea. I thought her face was partway wistful, partway relieved. I understood. Balthier was difficult, whether one was losing or keeping him.

After the meal, Ashe looked at each of us in turn. If her gaze lingered longer on Balthier and me, who was to say?

"This is it, everyone," she said solemnly. "We've been through a lot together, and I owe my life to each one of you. I want to thank you for helping me get this far. I couldn't have done it without you." I knew that Ashe would make a good ruler. She had a way of speaking that made her words very personal. "Be sure you are all prepared. After this there's no turning back." She was met by grave looks. We were ready to follow her. Ashe nodded. "All right. Then, Balthier, if you would lead the way?"

He stood, releasing my hand as he did so – he probably didn't realize it. Fran flitted to his side and we all filed out after them. I felt the separation from Balthier like a physical pain, but I knew the action was not meant to slight me. Balthier was Balthier. I knew this better than anyone. Vaan and Penelo wouldn't stop grinning at me.

In the hangar, the _Strahl_ sat waiting, majestic as ever, its very stillness seeming to haughtily say '_what took you so long?_' My heart still leapt when I thought of the brief time I had spent almost flying her. I loved the _Shera_, too, but the _Strahl _was one of a kind.

"Fran, set a course for Rabanastre," Balthier said. "I have a feeling the _Strahl_ could find _Bahamut_ on her own."

And with that, we were off. As we flew, Balthier gave Vaan further, more intricate lessons on flying. I learned a little bit, too. But I would not allow myself to think about why he was doing so. I had so recently become happy that I didn't want to ruin it so soon. I hated the separation between myself and Balthier, and as I sat one row behind, across from him, I kept my eyes on him, imagining where my hands would go, were we alone. Down the side of his face to his chest, down his torso… I sighed, longingly, quietly. His concealing clothes suddenly seemed a sacrilege. I was brought to the sudden realization that the previous night could have been our last, and I bit my lip on my sound of distress. Balthier turned to look at me, and I knew what he was thinking without a word needing to be said; his thoughts were the same as mine. I blushed. Had he heard me? He smirked – he had. But his eyes were dark – he knew it, too. And he regretted it. I had to clench my fists – I wanted to go to him, but I wasn't sure if this would break the rules or not.

The slightest inclination of his head, and I was out of my seat. It seemed the whole cabin held its breath as I put my hand on his shoulder. His lids flickered infinitestimally. I knew instantly what he wanted – I wasn't used to being so connected to him.

"I didn't know that," I said lightly. "So the propulsion systems are linked to the aether modulators and not the electric magicite chamber? I always thought that…"

"It's usually the case," Balthier replied, his voice's tone matching mine. "Most airships work that way. But because of the dual wing design, Fran and I had to bypass that particular system – it's quite inefficient in this context. I can show you, if you like.

Fran's ears twitched – only she knew that Balthier had already spent a day showing me all over the _Strahl_.

Balthier put the ship on autopilot and stood. "Fran, you have the con. Vaan, you stay here – until it's an emergency, I don't want you within ten feet of my engines."

"If you have any questions, I will answer," Fran said calmly. My eyes, which were on Balthier's face, widened, and his expression slipped through surprise briefly before settling on neutrality again.

"All right, Siyana, with me." The words were a command, but the voice was gentle. I slipped my hand into his – it was not quite a ruse we were playing, because everyone knew what we were doing and there was no need to hide it, but it was a matter of Balthier's sensibilities, so I went along.

The noise in the cockpit regained a more normal level as we left, and we made it all the way to the engine room before Balthier pressed me against the door and closed it with my body, holding my wrists above my head, the thrum of the engines a counterpart to my heavy breathing. I looked into his eyes for one instant that seemed to take a lifetime as he evaluated my position: arms stretched high, restrained, my breasts rising and falling with each panting breath, standing pliant and willing beneath his vise-like hands.

"Gods, I love you," he said, at exactly the same instant that I said the same. There was an instant of shocked silence, and then we laughed, my compromised position adding a delicious edge to my motion. Almost before I could blink he was on me, lips smothering, hands squeezing my wrists tighter and tighter, the bruises from the previous night on my shoulder blades and arms stretching and twinging deliciously each time I shifted. Even when I was suffocating, gasping for breath, I wanted the kiss to go on forever.

At last he pressed me harder into the door, kissing me with more force than ever, and then released me. I fell forward to lay my head against his shoulder, burrowing deeper into his chest.

"I wish you were in my bed," he murmured. "I was a fool to wait so long."

I held him tighter. "We _will _get through this," I said again, as if saying it enough times with enough conviction could make it true. "And then our lovemaking won't be confined to snatches at nighttime." He chuckled at the picture I painted.

"I mean it," I said. "I could make love to you all day and not be satisfied."

He laid a trail of kisses up and down my jaw. "You've done that often, have you?"

I shrugged as well as I could in the tightness of his embrace. "Once or twice, patrons would call me out on special assignment. It's good money, and I have passed duller afternoons with naught to show for it at the end. But for you…" I let my voice trail away, knowing it would irk him.

He made a sound deep in his throat. "Yes?" he growled. His grip was dangerously tight. I licked my lips. "Well, I might just lock you in the bedchamber." I could feel his laughter. "I'm not usually the one doing any tying, but there can be a first time for everything. And for you…" I sighed. "For you, it would be so much better."

He groaned, practically attacking my lips, but his words were light as always. "I supposed I could make some time for that," he said.

Unbidden, the lines came to my head; Sephira's, meant for this moment. "Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steed, towards Loghril's lodging! Such a wagoner as Igeyohm would whip you into the west and bring in the cloudy night immediately."

His voice took up the rest: "Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night, that runaways' eyes may wink, and Sephira leap into these arms, untalked of and unseen." I glanced at him; he shrugged and continued with the lines. "Lovers can see to do their amorous rites by their own beauties; or, if love be blind, it best agrees with night."

In a moment, I had the right answer. "Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-browed night. Give me my Balthier, and when I shall die, take him, and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun."

"Sounds good," Balthier murmured, dropping out of verse, "but I like not this talk of dying."

"Then let's not talk," I suggested. He grinned and kissed me again, and I surrendered completely.

Though we had no time to make love, I had managed to get Balthier's shirt off, when suddenly he stopped, looking over my shoulder. I turned to see Fran entering. She took in the scene before her with absolutely no change of expression whatsoever.

"We approach the battlefield," she said, but there was just a hint of a smile in her voice. I think this was the only instance in which Fran was happy to be proved wrong. "My suspicion that I should be the one to inform you proves correct. Balthier, you are needed at the con." She lingered only a moment, and then turned on her heel and was gone. I smiled sheepishly at Balthier.

"Sorry. I didn't hear her at all. When did I take off your shirt?" He drew it back on with a grimace, but it was a playful one. "It was a while ago, Siyana. You seem to have been remarkably oblivious."

I held a tentative finger to my lips. "Were we really kissing for the whole trip?" It had seemed like no more than a few minutes, not hours!

He contemplated me with a wry smirk. "Indeed. And you had best do something about that hair, my dear, if you want Vayne to take you seriously. My apologies for ruining it."

I put my hand to my knotted hair, trying to remember how it had happened.

"Try not to take too long," Balthier teased as he buckled his vest. I fastened the back before he could get to it, just for an excuse to touch him again. "We do actually have to focus now." I sighed. He was damnably right. If I didn't want to get myself killed I would have to be sharp, thinking fast on my feet, not half in a daydream.

I slipped into the _Strahl_'s bathroom, looking at my dishevelled hair, hectic face, and bright eyes. I hardly recognized myself. As I ran a comb through my hair, I reflected on how my life seemed so much more like a dream now than reality.

I re-did my hair into a tight braid at the crown of my head and stepped out into the hallway. As I entered the cockpit, I stood behind Balthier's chair and put my hands on his shoulders, rubbing them in tiny circles. He leaned back slightly into my touch.

"You're distracting me," he murmured. I grinned – he could see my expression in the viewing window.

"I should feel sorry," I said in the same tone, "but I don't."

He smirked, knowing I could see. "And I should feel sorry that you're not sorry, but I'm not."

Suddenly Vaan was there, interrupting. "What is it with you guys? Even when you're talking love I don't understand you."

The glance Balthier and I exchanged in the window lasted less than a moment, but I knew exactly what to say. Balthier beat me to it.

"Well, Vaan, I'm not sure that should come as such a big surprise, considering…" he trailed off, knowing it would annoy the boy.

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

I glanced at Penelo, and found that she was looking in our direction. I took pity on Vaan.

"Only that you're the teensiest bit clueless," I said, smiling at him.

He seemed to realize he was being made fun of and deflated a little.

"I don't know how I'm going to deal with two of you," Vaan muttered, but I could hear. "It was hard enough when Balthier had one person completely in tune with him."

My smile was softer as I returned it to Balthier.

"Well, princess," Balthier said. "Welcome home."

I forgot to massage Balthier's shoulders as I stared out of the chaos now overtaking my homeland. The myriad tiny shapes of fighter skiffs weaved in and out around the legions and huge carriers that crowded the sky. The occasional bursts of fire and trails of smoke and flashes of paling-light made me fear for my city. My grip on Balthier's shoulders tightened. And far away, on the opposite side, a massive cloud of dust rose, looming over the battlefield like an evil tornado.

My voice was a hushed whisper. "Is that… _Bahamut_?" I couldn't keep the fear from my voice. It was just so _immense_! It towered over the city and all the other ships like a maelstrom of death. Even so distant, my blood ran chill just to look at it. This was Cid's masterwork. Suddenly, looking ahead to the coming night seemed very naïve, even foolish. Taking such a monstrosity down was surely a task too vast for any seven people.

Balthier reached up to briefly squeeze my hand, the gesture speaking volumes. He was unnevered, too – and truthfully, who wouldn't be? Even Fran was stiller than usual as she eyed it. The cockpit went deathly quiet.

As we stared, a massive amount of energy was gathered to the fortress. From this distance it looked like a tiny sun. It accumulated for one long, breathless time, and then, quick as thought, a thin tendril shot out and past us (I jumped, it was so close, and Fran sucked in her breath at the proximity of the Mist) and hit a Resistance heavy carrier behind us. For an instant, nothing happened, and I had just enough time to wonder what all that buildup had been for, when suddenly the carrier collapsed, imploding in on itself before our horrified eyes, finally detonating into pieces so small they wouldn't trouble a paling.

The shocked intake of breath echoed around the otherwise silent cockpit. For a while, no one was capable of speech. Vaan, as usual, was the one to break it.

"Shit." So shaken were we that Penelo did not try to correct Vaan's language. The word summed up our feelings as well.

Balthier took in a deep, shaking breath. He, perhaps more than any of the rest of us, was affected by the horror of his father's handiwork.

"All right, princess," he said, "it's your show. How do you want to wing this?"

Ashe drew herself up, resolution etched into every line of her delicate face. "Give me the communicator," she ordered. Balthier wordlessly placed it in his outstretched hand. "Start flying," she continued. "The sooner we get to _Bahamut_, the sooner we can put an end to this madness."

Balthier turned to the controls. "Your wish is my command," he muttered, but so low Ashe had no hope of hearing. "You might want to sit down," he suggested to me in the same tone, without looking around as he switched the expulsion drive. "Things might get a little dicey." He opened both throttles and we shot forward. I fell back into my seat, but Ashe managed to remain standing, clinging to Vaan's headrest as she pleaded with Marquis Ondore, the leader of the Resistance.

"Uncle, it is I! I'm crossing to the _Bahamut _to stop Vayne!" I winced – that was a little blunt. Predictably, Ondore was not pleased.

"What are you saying? You are too rash! Your duties come after the battle is over." The Marquis couldn't be blamed, I supposed. Anyone who had not travelled or fought with us could not know the true extent of our strength when we were arrayed together against a common foe. Attributing Ashe's blatant statement to naïve impulsiveness could only be excused by ignorance.

I frowned as Balthier swerved in and around the warring factions. After that display, did the Marquis honestly still believe he could win? Admittedly, the odds were not so great for us, either. But we needed to work together, not coddle Ashe like some precocious child.

"If we allow them to destroy us here, there will be no after," Ashe argued, proving me correct. "You must assist our charge."

But Ondore was not convinced, and he did not take kindly to orders.

"Stop. You must pull back! Stop the _Strahl_!" There was no hint of uncertainty. How to persuade him? _Before _Balthier said something to the Marquis we would later regret. Who did he think was piloting the _Strahl_? And if there was anyone who liked taking orders less than the Marquis, it was Balthier, especially when concerning his precious ship. The handsome shoulders in front of me stiffened.

Ashe drew breath to reply, to defuse a very sticky situation, but before she could say a word, Vaan had grabbed the communicator. Ashe reached for it back, but Vaan was already speaking.

"Hold it!" The voice that came through was that of Larsa Solidor. The brilliance of the ploy, however, was marred by the word choice. Vaan realized this as the rest of us let out a hiss of warning and he quickly corrected himself. "I mean, w-wait! This is Larsa Solidor! I'm going in with her! So… we're fine. I got the princess covered!" I winced – how could he have remembered the feature of the communicator but forgotten Larsa's educated, Archadian diction? He had a fine example in Balthier. The boy was truly incomprehensible at times.

"Larsa Solidor?" Understandably, Ondore sounded incredulous. "So you hold him as a hostage?" Yes, that would explain the 'lapse' Larsa was experiencing. But not his willingness to help.

Ashe snatched the communicator back from the boy, before he could undo what good he'd made. "No, Uncle," she explained. "He will fight with us against Vayne!"

Vaan flicked the switch anyway and leaned over Ashe's shoulder. "Leave it to us!" At least that sounded like something Larsa would say.

There was a long hesitation on the end, and then a sigh rustled down the channel. Ondore knew he was being taken in, but seemed to sense that he was fighting a losing battle. "Understood," he said at last. "Our fate is in your hands."

Vaan turned off the communicator. "Yes!" he exclaimed, in contrast to the Marquis' loaded parting words. I consoled myself that he had thought to end the line before exulting.

Penelo slipped from her seat and leaned down to speak to him. "'I got the Princess covered'?" she teased.

The boy shrugged, unfazed. "Larsa'd say that."

I shook my head indulgently as Balthier opened a new, more official channel to the _Garland_. "We're relying on you for fire support," he said crisply, as though trying to erase Vaan's errant behaviour. "Give them something to think about. We'll pick our moment and make our move." He did not wait for an answer before terminating the link. The _Strahl _trembled – she was in that awkward mid-point between her gears and wanted to be off. Balthier granted her wish, and then we were flashing through the battlefield and I was treated to sitting behind the best pilot of the age as he performed some of the most fantastic maneouvres I had ever seen. If I had thought I'd seen Balthier fly before, I was wrong. This time, he was in earnest, and it was an amazing thing to watch.

We weaved and swerved around fighters, carriers, and even enemy fire with pinpoint accuracy, often with scarcely a foot of space on either side. My heart was racing, but I was surprisingly unafraid despite the fact we were tilted sideways more often than not – thanks to Fran's skill with the stabilizers we were only jostled, and I was filled with nothing but adrenaline and admiration. I found myself mirroring Balthier's smooth motions as he directed his ship.

"Quite the welcome!" Balthier sounded grudgingly impressed. "Careful!" He swooped down so fast I left my stomach behind me, nearly skimming the ground.

Fran's eyes were glued to the monitor. "One follows!" Balthier was undismayed.

"Ah, so you want to dance!" He swerved to the left, as though acknowledging the fighter. "Then let's dance!"

Fran's voice had a smile in it as she carried the metaphor. "A new partner."

"It's not easy being this popular, you know." For the first time, his words were slightly strained. Waiting until the last possible moment before we surely must crash, he flipped suddenly sideways and our two assailants collided. Flames engulfed the windshield, it was so close, but Balthier did not give us time to catch our breath. He opened wings and thrusters, and we shot forward on the last leg of the trip. We spiralled up through the rings of _Bahamut_, still marvelling at its size. I could hear the engines straining slightly, fighting against the fortress' massive displacement. Balthier's movements were sure as he deftly guided the _Strahl _through the confined space, searching for the docking bay. "There it is." In one fluid twist, he flipped over, sheathing wings, to come to a smooth stop precicely aligned with the clamps. I let out the breath I'd been holding, a little sad it was over. I had witnessed a thing of beauty.

But there was no time to rest. Ashe led the rush out of the ship. I stood on slightly shaky legs as Balthier swept out of his seat and took me by the waist, ushering me out.

Vaan stood in the corridor, urging everyone on. "Come on! Come on!" Balthier's grip on my waist tightened as we jogged past him. We had entered the Sky Fortress _Bahamut_.

A knot of premonition lodged itself in the put of my stomach, the one I'd had for the last little while. This time, though, it was lingering and uncomfortable. I felt suddenly very cold, though the environment was intemperately warm.

"This is wrong," I whispered, suppressing a shiver. "I don't want to be here."

Balthier's lips brushed my cheek. "Don't worry," he said softly. "We won't be here for very long at all. I won't let anything happen to you." The most part of me melted into his assurances and his touch, but I was still uneasy.

I pursed my lips. "I don't think I'm worried about _me_, precisely…" The feeling was hard to pin down.

But Balthier was not paying attention. Either that, or I'd spoken too quietly.

"Vayne will be in the fortress' command tower," he said as we assembled in the atrium. A heavy red light washed everything to its own colour, making Balthier's shirt a fascinating shade of pink. The walls, like the outside shell, were round, metal, and covered with bits of machinery that I was fairly sure I didn't want to know the functions of. In contrast to the stark practicality of the surroundings, the floor was laquered, its white surface polished and faintly reflective. "I saw something of the like on our way in here," Balthier continued. I thought him amazingly observant, to be able to notice layout while flying such a tight course. Seemingly uncomfortable with my regard, he straightened his cuffs and glanced upward. "Right above our heads." I followed his gaze instinctively, but could see nothing as yet.

Ashe was looking ahead. "We need not fight all the Empire to win. If we can get to Vayne, we can put an end to this war."

Vaan's exuberance was apparent. "Let's get going then," he said, eyes eager. "Find Vayne wherever he's perched, and knock 'im off."

I was still doubtful it would be that easy, but I was unwilling to dampen the mood. As we turned and proceeded deeper into the fortress, Ashe's orders were clear. We were not to engage any soldiers. Prolongued battles would only sap our strength and bring more guards swarming down on us. There were surely no Crystals in the fortress.

As we entered the next hallways, two Imperials spotted us. My hand itched toward my pole instinctively, but Balthier grabbed it and pushed me past. We started running, then, straight towards them. This unexpected move gave us just the element of hesitation we needd to escape. The next, however, would not be so easy.

We formed ranks – those with heavy armour (Basch, Ashe, and Vaan) on the outside, to take any wayward blows. Fran, with her mystic armour, was there to absorb any magick attacks, and the rest of us, focussed less on defense, were in the middle. We ran as fast as we could, Balthier keeping very near me. I got the feeling that, if trouble threatened, he would spend one of his precious bullets to protect me first, even before the rest of the party.

We made a sharp right, entering the central hub. There, we were forcibly halted, stunned by the sight of the command tower. It rose high above us, a thin cylinder covered in a geometric pattern of myriad coloured lights. In a place of such ugliness, it stood out as something quite beautiful. But our ogling was cut short, because the staircase beneath us shuddered violently. I clung to Balthier, trying to keep my balance. Ahead of us, Vaan and Penelo were doing the same, and Basch beside us was supporting Ashe. Fran needed no one's help. Balthier's hands were firm on my shoulders, but the shaking went on for an inordinately long time.

Fran's ear twitched in the direction of the outside once everything at last went still – sensing the battle outside, no doubt.

"The Resistance fights their battle well," she informed us. "We dare not fail them. We dare not falter."

"Stop worrying," Vaan admonished. I blinked, wondering how Fran would take it. Her expression did seem slightly taken aback, but Vaan continued. "We just have to clean up here, and Ashe'll be the queen."

I thought that a little premature, but Penelo was caught up in the sentiment. "It's kind of hard to believe," she said. "I can't imagine trying to rule a whole kingdom."

Basch stepped to my side with a wry glance at Balthier. It still threw me, how comfortable he was with my betrayal. But, coward that I was, I couldn't bring myself to broach the subject. "A queen might always 'run away' with the help of a sky pirate looking to raise his bounty a peg."

That one stung. I considered the possible, realizing it was very much plausible, but stood little chance of happening.

Balthier confirmed this with a little sound of disapproval. "I doubt our queen would need the help of any sky pirates."

Ashe was sceptical. "Do you really think me as strong as all that?" The princess had come a long way, I mused, if she was able to admit to her weakness.

Vaan treated the matter with his usual delicacy. "Who said anything about strong?" As everyone turned to look at him, he shrugged. "You'll make it," he said. "You have good friends."

Some Imperials came upon us, then, shouting warnings, and we were off again. We turned right down the first available spoke to get to the central column, skirting it, before turning left to get on the lift. There was a panel for the mechanics, and Vaan rushed over, Penelo at his side, to try to figure them out. I looked to Fran, finding that Balthier had drawn her off to the side and was speaking in a low voice. I had little time to dwell on this, because from behind there came the sound of heavy breathing and clanking footsteps. Fran spun towards it, and Ashe turned too. Basch waited until the last possible moment before reluctantly looking over his shoulder.

"So you have lived." It pained me to see how matter-of-fact Basch's voice was, as if he had not been going mad with anxiety over his brother's fate the past few days. Basch, too, had appearances to keep up.

"I am Judge Magister," the armour-clad monolith replied proudly. He then wobbled, unsteady. "Even in disgrace." His voice sounded infinitely weary. "My just reward for aiding the Empire that destroyed my homeland." Did he fail to see that he was merely a pawn in Vayne and Cid's plans? An instrumental and willing pawn, perhaps, but I found it difficult to blame him. He had just done the best he could with what he had.

"Gabranth." The name was awkward in Basch's mouth. "Do not blame yourself any more."

But Gabranth would not be soothed. "You confound me, brother! You failed Landis, you failed Dalmasca… all you were to protect. Yet you still hold on to your honour. How?" He sounded close to tears, concealed behind his mask.

"I had someone more important to defend," Basch replied simply. "And defend her I have. How is it that you have survived? Is it not because you defend Lord Larsa?" They did not speak like brothers – they sounded like common soldiers in the mess. And Basch was right – he had hit upon that thing that kept both of them alive, day after day, and kept the shadow of death from enveloping them completely. It was one of the only things the twins had in common. And Gabranth knew it.

"Silence!" Blaming someone else, even his brother, was easier for Gabranth than turning inward. I knew the feeling. "All was stripped from me! Only hatred for the brother who fled our homeland remains mine." He drew his blades and we readied for battle. But Gabranth was not done. "Tell me," he said, "why do you forsake that which you must hold most precious?"

Basch's voice was unsympathetic. "I do as I must, brother. Or is that not answer enough?"

* * *

**A/N: **Next week: Vayne!


	33. Vayne: Part the First

**Disclaimer: **The reins of disclaimer back in the hands of Man!

**A/N: **I have been recalcitrant in my writing and the end of this chapter was only written and typed today. I have no one to blame but myself. By necessity, therefore, this chapter is brief. Battle writing has never been my strong point, and I'm kind of in a hurry to get to the 'after' part (you'll see why when I get there). If it was up to me, I would skip these chapters, but they're kind of important, I suppose... lol. Please enjoy!

* * *

The battle began. I engaged in the routine that I could perform in my sleep; the standard Dispel, Protectga, and Hastega, whose spells were as natural to me now as breathing. And this time, I could fight for Basch.

I twirled my pole experimentally, thinking that I should have gotten some practice hours in – had I not been otherwise distracted. I flew into battle, Balthier's deadly-accurate rifle shooting at my side, and I felt it again. That sense of completeness, of right, that I had felt once at Phon Coast, and then in Balthier's arms. It was the sensation of being somewhere I belonged.

It felt like a carefully choreographed dance, the element of the chance of death only serving to heighten my excitement. I twirled to gather more power before slamming my pole across Gabranth's midsection. There was a low 'clunk' of armour, and a faint 'ooph' escaped Gabranth's invisible lips. I grinned as I hit my stride, even though I knew I didn't have too many of those in me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of Gabranth's descend, and I whirled almost without thinking to block the weapon before it could make contact with Balthier's frontal lobe. He fired beneath my arm, and I danced out of the way as the second sword retaliated.

But our advantage could not last long. Calling on some deep well of strength, Gabranth swung both swords at once, driving us back. I escaped with merely a gash across my forehead, but some, like Vaan, were in worse shape, with multiple deep lascerations opening his stomach. I winced, and started chanting Curaja as Gabranth mocked. "Look, Basch, your friends die! As they must, for surely you cannot protect them! Know now the despair you have taught me!"

As the sheen of my magick cocooned everyone, Basch entered the fray, his new greatsword (privately named 'Save the Queen') held high. The fight did not continue for very long before Gabranth proved he had another ace up his sleeve. "End at my blade!" he cried, swinging his swords, and fire-slashes filled the room. I could not avoid them all, and where one struck me, the blood that escaped the half-cauterized wound burned.

It looked ugly, and it hurt like all hell, but the blessed coolness of one of Fran's Curas sealed it completely, with no ill effects. And then it was just a matter of time.

Breathing heavily, Gabranth sighted along his sword at his brother. "Have you your fill of this?"

Basch took the words from my mouth. "I would ask you the same." He paused. "Let this end, Noah."

I blinked. So Gabranth was only a pseudonym – just like Balthier.

The name seemed to overpower Gabranth/Noah and he collapsed to one knee. "I've no right to be called by that name," he murmured.

Basch did not contradict him, though his voice was softer. "Then live. And reclaim it."

Fran took matters into her own hands and got the lift to work. As we began to rise, I gazed at Gabranth. The pity I had felt before, at the Pharos, welled up again. But I realized it was something more than pity. I found that I could sympathize with Basch's twin, and I couldn't really hate someone so close to him, someone so vulnerable.

Heaving a quiet sigh – I wasn't sure why I kept doing this – I went towards Gabranth. Balthier moved to stop me, but I pushed past him to kneel beside the judge.

"I remember you," he said with effort, turning his head slightly. "From the Pharos Tower. You… healed me, gave me enough strength to escape. I thank you for that. But I must as you… why? It was your blow that felled me."

"I was angry," I replied. "But I had a lot of help in that regard."

He made a sudden movement at the sound of my voice.

"You… you're half-Archadian!" he exclaimed, shocked.

I nodded. "Are you going to condemn me for that?" I asked.

A shudder… was he trying to laugh? "Me? You must be jesting. I'm not Archadian enough for that." An infinitesimal shift of his head. "Now your paramour – it doesn't seem like he is, either.'

"Hm. I rather like the sound of that. A judge tells me I'm not Archadian enough. I can live with that." Balthier's satisfied voice was closer than I'd expected. I hadn't known he'd followed me.

I wished I had the time to ask Gabranth what had happened, back in Landis, but I realized I didn't need to, not any more. What the brothers were confronting were two conflicting ideals of honour. The Knight Order of Landis had failed performing their most basic duty – the defence of their country – and collapsed, leaving their initiates to fend for themselves. One had chosen to flee, to seek new masters and fight against the evil regime. The other stayed, to offer his services to the conquerors. Who could say which path was the worthier?

"Half-Archadian…" Gabranth mused, mostly to himself. "How did you manage that, I wonder?"

I replied anyway. "Mixed parentage. Proof, I suppose, that love can flourish in the most unlikely of places. But it did not turn out well for me, I'll admit… at least at first."

Gabranth sounded interested in spite of his exhaustion. "Why? What happened?"

I didn't want to get into details – not with Balthier there. Besides which, I didn't have the time.

"I spent the past two years in a whorehouse in Rabanastre," I said. "I had my maidenhead auctioned off to an Imperial soldier," I continued, ignoring the tensing of the two men beside me. "I know what it's like to lose one's sense of honour."

Gabranth's voice was hardly more than a whisper. "How did you regain it?"

I reached back to where I knew Balthier's hand was waiting, seeking relief in his touch. I shuddered to think what would have happened to me if he hadn't found me.

"Nobody can give you your honour," I told him. "You have to make it for yourself. But you do need someone to help you. I found mine – or he found me." My hand was given a gentle squeeze. "I took my chance at redemption. Will you?"

Gabranth turned away, and I nodded in understanding. I rose to leave him with his thoughts.

Balthier drew me aside. His nose skimmed my jawline. "You consider me redemption?" he asked quietly.

I nodded, flicking my lips towards his mouth when it came near. "Yes. I do think that. If you hadn't saved me when you did…" My voice trailed off. It was then that I realized everyone was watching us, and probably had been since I'd started speaking with Gabranth.

Balthier noticed it too, and he broke off his sensual caress. "About your business, everyone," he said casually. "Nothing here to see." But he did not reach for me again. Fran gave me one of her looks, the ones that seemed almost telepathic in their comprehensibility. The look said 'You do well with Balthier.' I smiled and studied the floor.

The lift shuddered to a halt. I took a deep breath, preparing myself to face the ultimate confrontation. Around me, the others were doing the same, their faces settling into lines of resolute determination. With a curt nod, Ashe led us onward. The time for words was past.

I kept close to Balthier as we climbed a flight of stairs, and there, standing in the middle of a large circular platform, was the man himself.

I was a little surprised that he was so good-looking; I had rather childishly been expecting him to have horns and scales, or at the very least be fat and have a mutant head. I'd been confined to House Flamenca when Vayne gave his Consulate speech and had never seen him, unlike my companions. I daresay the only other in the party who had never seen our antagonist was Fran, and gods knew nothing shook her. The smaller boy beside him, by description, had to be his brother Larsa, who gasped when he saw us, looking pleased. Vayne solemnly raised his arm.

"I bid you welcome to my sky fortress, the Bahamut," he said, his language polite and courtly. "I must apologize for my delay in welcoming you aboard my ship." He moved his hand to his heart and bowed slightly. The rest of us stood in silent disbelief, ready for action. Without raising his head, Vayne surveyed us from beneath his fringe, his eyes dark and tone dangerous. "Permit me to ask: who are you?"

It was then that I remembered: though we knew all about Vayne by reputation, he knew nothing of us. His next words, however, were directed at Ashe. "An angel of vengeance? Or perchance a saint of salvation?" Vayne spoke very well – I had to search hard to find the ironic cast to his voice.

It took Ashe a moment to speak. Whatever she had been preparing for, it was not conversation.

"I am simply myself," she replied at last. "No more and no less. And I want only to be free."

The same arm that had saluted us readied for battle in a fist. I blinked. The dictator-Emperor of Archadia, who had Ivalice's most extensive and advanced weapons programs under his thumb, fought with his hands? "Such a woman is not fit to bear the burden of rule," he said. "Weep for Dalmasca, for She is lost." The party tensed, balancing. This was more familiar territory. Vayne addressed his brother. "Observe well, Larsa. Watch and mark you the suffering of one who must rule, yet lacks the power."

I was focused on Vayne, so Larsa's quiet, sweeter tones took me by surprise.

"No."

I looked around sharply to see the boy, younger even than Vaan, holding a sword against Vayne. It was trembling slightly, but Larsa held his ground. "No, brother. I will not. Though I lack your power, I will still persist." He put his second hand to the hilt to keep it steady. I could have smiled at the irony – Ashe's words to the Marquis had been prophetic. Larsa would fight with us against Vayne.

But the Emperor, accustomed to betrayal by kin, scoffed, hardly deigning to look at his brother. "Bold words, child."

Your lives are forfeit, and your insurgence with them," Vayne declaimed. "Dalmasca will again know order. For good and all, I shall bring your futile attempts at rebellion to an end!"

And the battle began. I welcomed the abrupt narrowing of focus that descended upon me, making it easier to concentrate. The opponent before me was merely an enemy to be destroyed, not an all-powerful emperor hell-bent on destruction. I was able to mark his weak points in my calculating gaze: the neck, beneath the arm, behind the knees. And then I attacked.

Whatever misgivings I may have had about going against an unarmed fighter with weapons were soon dispelled. He was _fast_! Even with three of the party and Larsa on him, their blows passed through thin air; or if they hit, they were glancing blows only. He weaved and ducked through the fray with all the skill of Balthier's ship dodging, and would suddenly appear and inflict devastating blows from a completely unexpected quarter before sliding away again, slippery as an eel. Twice in the first moments, he pummelled Basch and Balthier so severely with fists backed by magick that I gasped out a panicked Curaga.

In the dead center of the platform, Vayne gathered himself. "What am I to do with those who oppose me," he asked rhetorically, "but show them death?"

As the world exploded around me, I did the only thing I could think of. I threw myself to the ground, but even that could not protect me. Ignoring the pain, I staggered to my feet. Before I could do anything, a Curaga was sent my way (I recognized the impatience of the magick, but it was tempered somewhat) – and I went into action. I swung my pole directly at Vayne's head. He ducked and aimed a kick, catching me behind my shins and I fell once again. As soon as I did, I rolled, feeling Vayne's foot descend exactly where my head had been a second before. I lashed out with my pole, using his own trick against him, jerking his knees out from under him.

He fell with a low sound, and Basch was there with his greatsword. I backed away, breathing heavily.

"Good work." Balthier clasped my shoulder as he fired into the fray. "You've come a long way.

I smiled and brushed his hand. "I've had a lot of help." Seeing his expression, I shook my head. "I'll be fine. Trust me on that."

But I kept back from then on, staying behind the main fighters and curing.

"Watch your MP!" Penelo warned. She was playing the same role as I, to avoid the expense of group heals. I shot her a questioning look. Why should I conserve MP on the final battle? The girl shrugged. "I've just got this feeling."

I paid heed. Penelo's "feelings" generally turned out to be accurate.

I healed less and charged more, spending magick only when necessary (such as when Vaan's over-eager chest met Vayne's devastating foot).

Larsa fought on grimly, always quietly out of the corner of your eye. As wily as his brother, and with youth on his side, his skills were invaluable, as he could predict the pattern of Vayne's strategies, and we all followed his movements as a guide. Sometimes, though, warning did us no good, as with a quote 'you will fall', Vayne unleashed another of his world-smashing punches. The force of his will seemed pressed upon the shattering world and I fell back, dismayed. But within me I found another will to counter it. I, who until recently would have been the last to consider myself as 'strong' (indeed, my livelihood had once been built upon the fact that I was the exact opposite), fought back against Vayne's oppression, able to do so only because of another's trust and regard. I came at Vayne, swinging, and this time he did not dodge. The satisfaction of hearing my weapon collide with his flesh was fulfilling.

Vayne pulled back, but in the end, no unarmed fighter could stand against eight armed ones, no matter how skilled. Vayne, as he neared defeat, became more volatile and struck more quickly and powerfully, at one point laying down a five hit combo on Balthier of such ferocity that I feared for his life. But curers converged on the scene, and as Balthier recovered, I revenged myself by striking a furious blow which took Vayne across the neck. He swayed, staggered… _fell._

I went instantly to Balthier's side, and likewise Larsa's first thought was for one he loved, even now.

"Lord Brother!" The care in his voice was almost enough to make me feel sorry I'd been the one to finish the battle.

"Larsa!" Vaan tried to stop the boy from running forward, but it was too late. As soon as Larsa neared his brother, an invisible field stopped him dead in his tracks, so suddenly and unexpectedly that I jumped. With a small cry, Larsa pitched forward to lay unmoving by his brother, hands nearly touching.

Penelo gasped belatedly, left behind by the swiftness of the attack. As I watched, unable to help, a dark vapour or Mist of some sort collected around Larsa's hand, flowing to Vayne. Before the party's astonished eyes, Vayne began to breathe, to rise… The only thought in my stunned mind was _life force?_ This magick was like nothing I had seen before. Terror rooted me to the spot as Vayne's completely audible heartbeat made him convulse with pounding, his skin bubbling horrifically as he expanded, changing…

Vayne let out a roar of power and pain that shot a jet of fire into the air. At the same time, a Mist-wave slammed into the party, pushing us all back. When I could see again, Vayne was on his feet, and _different._ He was bigger, and abnormally muscled, something barely human. His face was ravaged, the skin peeling, his once beautiful hair in tangles. For all his robustness, the man had the look of a reanimated corpse – which perhaps he was. And he was levitating.

Ashe named the abomination. "Manufacted nethicite!"

There was now an aura of fire around the creation (to be termed 'Novus' by us later on), and out of the cloud came swords, which Fran called 'Sephira', rather ironically. Whether or not those were the real names I never knew. Novus extended his arms and they spiralled upwards, controlled seemingly by his thoughts alone, to come back down in formation, wing-like, against his shoulders. And I knew despair. How could we fight such a being?

"Behold the power left me by our fallen friend!" The voice that had once been so cultured and elegant was now rough and scornful. What had this man become?

From the stairs there came the sound of heavy clanking. I actually smiled as I turned, surprising myself. Had Gabranth taken his chance?

Novus did not even look at his Judge Magister. "Gabranth, you will defend my brother. He will have much need in the hell to follow."

For the second time that day, Vayne had a sword pointed at him from an allied quarter. Novus looked at Gabranth now.

"Yes, I _will _defend Lord Larsa," Gabranth affirmed proudly.

"The hound strays." Novus sounded almost eager. "Treason bears a price."

Gabranth did not falter. "One I gladly pay."

Novus, snarling, sent his swords circling outwards. With Larsa lying, still prone on the ground behind us, we prepared to fight this second incarnation.

"Vayne is the greatest danger," Ashe said, "but the swords are troublesome."

"I will deal with the swords," Gabranth told us, approaching the party, "but I will need one other to help me."

I turned to Fran. "Cast Berserk on me," I told her. "It will make me more powerful and I'll combo more often and focus on the swords."

Fran nodded. Balthier looked as if he wanted to protest, but there wasn't time. Vayne attacked, and there was no further discussion.

"Just make sure you heal me," I said to Fran, slightly nervous now. Under Berserk, I couldn't do it for myself.

"It is a good plan," Fran assured me. "I will look out for you."

"Thanks," I said, before my mind submerged into madness.

* * *

**A/N: **Next up: Vayne second half. Sorry for the cliffie bit! (Not really ;)


	34. Vayne: Part the Second

**Disclaimer: **You're a disclaimer, aren't you?

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay! I have been recalcitrant in my writing and only just finished this chapter now. Part of this is because I am a new initiate into the world of WoW, and have found it very distracting. My apologies. However, thanks to my jigsaw puzzle way of writing, the next chapters will be coming fast and furious because I have already written them, so the next one will come next Friday without fail. Next Friday also happens to be National Skip School day, caused by the premier of the Twilight movie. I am extremely excited.  
Without further ado, please enjoy chapter 34!

* * *

_Sounds roll around in my head, whispers crash like boulders and shouts whisper almost unheard, rolling off me like raindrops, incomprehensible. For I can only understand one thing._

_Raw power surges through my veins. There is a pressure behind my eyes like the force of a raging river dammed flimsily inside my mind. It makes me want to hit things, preferably very hard, in the face; anything to relieve the tension. Enemies are filled with an angry fire that feeds my own. I have to destroy them, destroy the sensation. Non-enemies are cold fires, that soothe my rage infuriatingly. I don't want to be calmed. So I avoid them._

_The pole in my hands is my key to survival, my tool with which I am able to effect my release. I can break things with it._

_Lights and sounds all crowd in on my awareness, each demanding my attention. Instinct is tantamount, and some inner urge to defend has been triggered, all complex emotions meaningless._

_I whirl into action, caring nothing for self-preservation, driven by fury. A purple light flashes past my line of vision - in some small, besieged part of my mind I know that I would never have been able to register it in normal status – and I am after it in a heartbeat; it has invaded my territory. It swoops low to cut at the waist of someone with cold fire: I leap upon it, panther-like, and beat at it as though it has dealt me personal insult. Its struggles are feeble beneath me; here I am the hunter, and the only concepts in my world are prey and non-prey. A flash of yellow, just in the corner of my sight: this is now the greater danger. I leave off the purple midway and charge after the yellow, my pole making circles in the air as I come down hard on it, knocking it off its path and changing its course. A whisper in the back of my awareness; I lunge sideways, and an arm burning with a fire so hot it pains me needs to be extinguished. I whip my pole backwards to smash the arm; it catches it one-handed, trapping me. Unwilling to leave my best weapon for survival, I take it in both hands, effecting a flip over the hotfire's head, wrenching the pole out of its grip and catching its chin in the process. Landing on my feet, I whirl, ready for danger, but there are now two coldfires between me and my newest prey. A low snarl escapes my lips. It is not their place, but I do not want to go near them, so I will let them go for now. A red flash catches my attention and I fling my pole with pinpoint accuracy, knocking it out of the sky until I return to beat it. With a satisfying sound, the red fades and it retreats, acknowledging my superiority. Yellow shoots by again, slashing me; the pain only fuels my rage. I turn, unwary; a vortice of blue shoots out from the center, catching my shoulder. In two strides I am at the source; the hotfire. It aims a kick for my head, and his leg provides a useful target. I step out of the way, laying into his leg and sides; he is away and encroaching on my other flank in an instant, but I can always sense where the hot fire burns. I spin, gathering force, to hit a white flash that gets in my way. Then the world around me turns a deeper shade of red, burning hotter than ever, and I am bursting with the desire to make it all go away. The cold fires are scattered around me in varying stages of distress – I know this, and think only that my way is clear in order to get at my prey. The hotfire is unwary – I am easily able to get inside its guard and attack the back of his head. In a heartbeat, there is a coldfire there, too – I am strangely drawn to this one, though I cannot remember why and it matters little now. A blue light has caught my eye and I am after it, dealing it a critical hit with pole and legs and fists. _

_There is a different sense around my prey when I return to it again; the hotfire has done something to its defences, but it affects me not at all, so I disregard the detail. Wind blasts into me and I stagger, but am not put off for long – I leap back into the fray with a well-aimed kick at the hotfire's stomach. _

_It will not be long now; the scent of victory is in the air and it drives me into a frenzy. A vortice of red drives me back, to the outside of the circle of coldfires, and the coldfire from before is there. It has a different scent from the others; it is a different kind of madness that takes me now. The scent alone is enough to overcome my aversion, and if my territory is not completely subdued, I have a different kind of prey now. I am filled with the need to make his fire as consuming as mine, and I begin with the exchange of heat. The feeling of soft flesh on my oversensitive awareness is infuriating. I am not gentle. I will ride this fire into the ground, and subdue it like I must all others, to prove my dominance. My hands, fingers curved like claws, are ready…_

The first rational sensation I had was that of Balthier's face, amused with eyebrow cocked, below me, and then that of my thighs straddling him, and the taste of blood in my mouth. With a shock, without truly understanding what it meant, I pushed myself off him, backing quickly away and collapsing to my knees, trying to make sense of what was happening. I cover my ears with my hands, blocking out the chaotic sounds around me until I am ready for them, using only one of my senses at a time.

My head hurt. That was a start. The floor beneath my feet was moving upwards at a goodly pace, and it was made of dense metal alloy. My name was Siyana. I was in the Sky Fortress _Bahamut_, fighting Vayne, and that was a fight going on behind me.

I rose shakily, not making any sudden movements. Balthier came towards me, wiping blood off his face as he did so (I tried and failed not to connect the action with the metallic taste in my mouth).

"You were… something else, my dear," he said, slipping his arm about my shoulders slowly, not causing me any alarm. "Remind me to buy you an amphora of Bacchus' Wine every once in a while."

I shook my head against his jest, trying to clear it. "Shouldn't we be helping them?"

"As if you're in a fit state. Besides, it's just about all wrapped up now."

Almost before he finished speaking, Vayne staggered, holding his shoulder. Gabranth ran up and dealt him a critical blow with his Judgement sword glowing. Vayne roared and gave way, but summoned a sword that made direct contact with the judge's helmet. I gasped, and Balthier's grip on my shoulder grew tighter, but the blow only sliced off half of the helmet, exposing his face – identical to Basch's except for the scar. Gabranth remained with his sword firmly lodged in Vayne's body, pushing it deeper.

"Even a stray has pride!" he growled.

Vayne roared again, longer this time, and gathered more energy, knocking Gabranth away. The judge flew backwards with a cry and skidded across the floor. I turned my head into Balthier's shirt as Basch approached his brother and knelt beside him, cradling his head, which was no longer concealed by a helmet.

"Here I pay my debt." Gabranth's voice was weary and resigned, but proud.

Vayne's was seething. "Burn in hell, Gabranth!"

I turned to watch, unable to remain ignorant, to see all of Novus' Sephira gather together and then shoot towards Gabranth and Basch. My fists clenched with helplessness – I was too far away to either help or throw myself in front of them, but I would be unable to watch Basch die. A cry escaped my lips…

And then everything was still. All at once, I saw Larsa, whom I had not noticed getting up, standing in front of the brothers, holding up a piece of manufacted nethicite that shone with a bright blue glow. All five swords hung in the air before him, suspended momentarily, before disappearing one by one into the tiny blue stone. Vayne took in a great gust of air, stunned, and rest assured he was not the only one. Then the stone in Larsa's hand shattered under the pressure, leaving behind only fragments and a lingering cool light, before that, too, was gone. Vayne gasped again, standing stupefied as Vaan picked up one of Gabranth's fallen swords and charged towards Vayne with a cry. The boy swept him across the stomach and Vayne fell back, over the railing of the now motionless lift. Vaan dropped the sword and swung over the railing to follow, heedless of danger, but suddenly the form of Venat appeared in front of him, blocking Vayne from sight. Beside me, Balthier's breath hissed through his teeth. Behind the Occuria, Vayne limped away while Vaan stood frozen. Venat waited until Vayne was away before disappearing at last and allowing Vaan to follow, which he did with alacrity. Balthier, leaving my side, was close behind, with Fran and Ashe behind him. They took off down the stairs. I lingered for the smallest second, seeing Larsa, his arm still raised, drop it and collapse to his knees, obviously exhausted. Penelo put her arms around his shoulders, comforting him in a quiet voice. Basch remained with his brother.

"Basch, tell me." Something in his voice made me think that he would not be with us much longer. "He is a good master?"

I could not say why, but the words somehow made me want to cry. I fled from the awkwardness, but not fast enough not to hear Basch's voice behind me. "Aye."

*

Vaan had stopped short, watching Vayne proceed painfully down the causeway, which led to a platform on the outside of the _Bahamut_. The rest of us gathered around, waiting. We could not strike. All were weary, and there was an unnerving element of strangeness in the air that made us hesitate.

Vayne shouted to the skies. "Venat!"

The Occuria appeared before him as always, glowing eyes and darkness beneath the shimmering robe now grown far too familiar to my eyes.

"I have failed us both," Vayne continued, wearily, still limping. Venat kept pace with him easily, hovering above the ground, never looking in the direction she was going. "I am no Dynast-King." Incredibly, there was a laugh in Vayne's voice. Did he, at last, grasp the enormity of his folly? "You must find another. One who might realize your ambitions." Perhaps not.

"They are fulfilled beyond your knowing," the Occuria replied, and I felt a cold finger trailing down my spine. Venat had always seemed two steps ahead. We had killed Vayne twice and he hadn't died. What did they know that we didn't?

They continued in tandem down the narrow walkway. "The Cryst is sundered," Venat continued, "Age of Stones complete. From the undying ones the world is freed. You shall not tread this path alone. Together we go. Come." At last she turned, moving behind Vayne instead of in front of him. The platform at the end was near. Vayne looked up, saw his destination, and chuckled. He walked past Venat, back straighter now, no longer limping as heavily. We recovered from our mass freeze and ran after them, still blocked from Vayne by Venat.

"Won't Cid be eager to learn what has happened here," Vayne said, mostly to himself, since he did not seem to be aware of our presence. Beside me, Balthier gave a shudder. The three – emperor, scientist, and sky pirate, were connected in a way that was unfathomable. Vayne had cared deeply for Cid, that much was obvious. Now time and space were screwed in his reckoning. Did Vayne still think Cid lived, or did he refer to the world beyond this one? "History begins anew."

The air was filled with black specks. They had been floating for a while now, but I only just noticed them, because now they flowed thick and fast, aimed in the direction of Vayne. Turning my head to search for their source, I saw that they emanated from Venat like so much pollen. Thicker still they grew, and then suddenly, Venat was gone.

I did not register the fact at first, staring instead at the substance, but Balthier's grip on my arm was like iron as the shadow from his past became nothing more than that – a shadow.

The specks now began to make contact with Vayne's rippled back, making gold flashes as they were absorbed into his skin. The gold turned fiery, and wisps of flame rose from Vayne's shoulders. One tendril shot up a hundred feet and hit a passing aircraft, destroying it instantly. The fire rose around Vayne, another tendril curving, smaller than the first, and taking down a heavy cruiser. _Nethicite_? I mouthed the world, but could find no strength to speak it in the face of such power. The fire swirled down Vayne's arms, and a white-hot glow formed around his hands like gloves. This, finally, startled him out of his walk. He stared down, perplexed, forming a startled fist and shooting out a jet of fire. With a roar, he moved his other hand, and multiple jets shot out, this time aimed at his own sky fortress. With a roar of pain (if the fire had been real fire I could not have been any more surprised), he threw back his head, his entire chest ablaze, fire streaming from him like silk.

Large threads like arms latched on to various parts of _Bahamut_'s anatomy, metal and bits of machinery scurrying down them and attaching themselves to Vayne as though there were some fundamental magnetic attraction. I watched as this horrific armour welded itself to Vayne's form, and he took one step further from humanity than he'd already gone, becoming something more machine than man. One arm piled into a gun of sorts, the other into a claw-like sword. With another yell of pain, spikes of metal drove themselves into his spine and curved outward, the basis for wing-like apparatus that came seconds after. Roaring, Vayne launched himself into the sky. Hovering there, a massive cloud of nethicite fire grew from him, darkening the sky and drawing still more metal parts to him. His wings grew larger, and a helm that was a second head grew from his own. He resembled nothing more than a mockery of an Esper, and one would be hard-pressed to find Archadia's emperor in this form.

We allowed ourselves a moment of startled stillness as the once-Vayne leered at us, eventually coming to the conclusion that something had to be done. But what, practically, could be done against something so large, containing within it all the powers of the Occuria? This was different from any scion we had ever encountered. At least in those battles, there had been weaknesses, clear fault-lines. Now, even Fran was out of her element.

It was Vaan who stirred us into action.

"Come on!" he said, his voice sounding loud in the tempest. "If we can't kill it, who will?"

His words were true, and this is what led us to engage the Undying.

It was a long battle, I will say that much – long and arduous. The Undying defied all conventions and flew about the arena targeting everyone with his powerful gun. Balthier tried to protect me by keeping in front of me, but once, for no reason at all, I found a bullet lodged in my thigh. Pain blossomed a second later, startled into appearing like a rabbit from the bushes, and I gasped, more startled than anything. The cool wash of a Curaga came a second later and the bullet popped out to skitter away across the platform.

This boss was more difficult than any we had encountered. He had more durability than all of them combined, or so it seemed. He had more super-attacks, and they hit for more damage. He could use any type of magick, and they pierced more deeply.

The Undying started things off with a massive sword attack, then started to cast Thundaga. I noticed this only when everyone else had been hit, because the lightning rolled off me like water.

"You should thank the gods for your Rubber Suit," Balthier muttered. "Those things hurt like hell."

Next, however, there was a Firaga attack, and no one had anything that could protect against that. I think parts of my suit may have melted as I staggered back – or at least that's how it seemed. Balthier had been right.

The Undying did the sword attack two more times, but this time, we were ready. We went into formation, each of us focussing on a different part of the Undying's anatomy, trying to find his weak spot. At first I was dismayed by the sheer enormity of the enemy, but my calculating side took over and I lost myself in sensation of the wooden grip of my pole trembling as I targeted metal flesh. Balthier stood beside me, Formalhaut in hand, firing round after round into its wing as I worked on the outside tips. Every once in a while someone would be pushed back, and then I would stop what I was doing to cast a Curaja or toss a Phoenix Down. I was interrupted when flames swirled around me in the vortex of a Megaflare, searing off skin and hair. I dropped my pole with a cry, but there was nothing that could not be undone with one of Fran's miraculous heals and I was soon on my feet again. The next piercing Blizzaga was enough to cool me down, and then Basch managed a five hit combo, a feat for which we called out congratulations and thanks.

This battle was also a very painful one, and soon my entire vision was washed in red. As the fight dragged on, a languor settled deep into my bones. I was not quite enjoying it, but the Undying's attacks certainly affected me in a different way from the others. I still cried out, but I tried to make my cries as painful as theirs, instead of the other kind, which sometimes popped out when I was shot. Luckily the rest were too engrossed in their respective battles to notice, but Balthier did give me a few brief looks. I do not think that he had fully grasped the totality of my condition until that day. As much as I would have liked Balthier's untender mercies to be the only things to thus move me, they were not. Pain was the great leveller, and my pleasure in it was the same, no matter what quarter it came from.

We had to Dispel the Undying periodically throughout the battle, and this was one of those times, as Fran, using Libra, detected that Vayne had gotten Faith on himself. Not wanting those piercing area attacks to be even more so, we got rid of that right away. Not long afterwards, however, a barrier formed making him immune to magick, but as we were mainly focussing on physical attacks, this did not pose too much of a problem. Fran with her Eight-Fluted Pole managed a three combo as the Blizzagas and Thundagas started coming in thick. More than one person fell, knocked senseless by the ferocity of the attacks, and Penelo with her Arise spell was invaluable. At some point the Undying became enraged, and the purple feeling of the magick barrier faded. Bravery came on next, which we were quick to Dispel, but then a red-feeling barrier enveloped it, and our weapons bounced away harmlessly.

"A Force Barrier," Fran intoned. "The Undying is immune to physical attacks."

Ashe got a light in her eye like she had a plan. She turned to Penelo, her words rushing together in her haste. "How many Megalixers do you have?"

The girl was quick in her response. "Three."

"Use one now," Ashe ordered, and then called to the party at large. "As soon as you get your magick power back, start a Quickening chain!"

We did as we were ordered, and everyone pushed themselves to the limits of their abilities. I started off with Thousand Cherry Blossoms, and stayed ready in stasis while everyone else did their own, and then I leaped in with Winged Arrow. I had a level 3, but I was too drained to use it now. I had just discovered my use of it, but I had a pretty good idea of where it had come from. Whereas both my other Quickenings had been many tiny things converging, in this one I gathered energy to myself from the inmost depths of my heart, using feelings so deep I couldn't express them in rational words to bear upon my enemies. This was a powerful tool, as I soon found when Fran found another source and I was able to use it at last, not only as an attack but as a release.

It need not be said that after such an effort from everyone, we managed the ultimate Concurrence, Black Hole. Tired though we were, there were cheers and hand-slapping going on everywhere once it was finished. Fran and Penelo, our two main casters, took a precious Elixir each, and the rest of us used our Augments to regain MP when we were attacked or attacking.

Our triumph was short-lived, however, as the Undying readied a major attack, shooting a beam into the air that impaled the clouds and then slicing it across the platform. There was no escape, and more than one party member was knocked unconscious as I ran among them with Phoenix Downs. In revenge, I whirled to strike a five combo, only to be rewarded with a cracking sound that was very much out of place. I looked down to see my faithful pole, bought for me by Blayne and helpful through so many dangers, snapped in two in my hand.

The sense of loss that washed over me was overwhelming. I had grown attached to my pole – it had been like an old friend to me, something familiar when everything around was strange and trying to kill me. I stared at it for a moment, uncomprehending.

"Siyana!" Basch's voice startled me out of my reverie as he tossed me a glittering blade. I caught it hilt-first, unthinking, and saw his grin of pride. "Good thing you thought of this!"

_Yes, indeed, _I thought, _because if I hadn't I would have been next to useless now._ I began a furious assault upon the Undying with my new sword, but I kept the pieces of the pole as a memento.

It was then that the Undying played his ace – in a flash of blinding whiteness he summoned Perfect Defence, and now there was no way to attack him.

Ashe took charge of a rapidly deteriorating situation. "Fall back," she ordered. "Don't attack, and spread out! We'll keep everybody healed, and now is the time to cast buffs if you need them!"

We did as she said, but the Undying ignored our plans, unleashing another Gigaflare sword on us, which was then followed by Holy (here I was lucky, since I was also wearing a White Mask) and Blizzaga. It was getting harder and harder to stay on top of things, and casting buffs was all but forgotten as we ran about with Phoenix Downs and Arise. Most of us did, however, manage to get Protect and Shell on, though this was more superfluous magick wasting than anything, since as soon as one was knocked out, all of the protection disappeared.

When at last we were all standing, the Undying proved he wasn't finished yet by revealing yet another massive attack, in which his weird helm emitted criss-crossing beams. I could see it coming, and was afraid, but could do nothing before it slammed into me, slashing deepest black through the haze of red. I knew I was losing consciousness, but I remained aware long enough to see another Thundaga, and Basch and Ashe teaming up to get a 7 combo together as the barrier fell. Through my failing sight, I saw Balthier fire straight at Vayne's heart, heard him roar… but the pressure of him coming apart at the seams and all the excess nethicite was too much for me to handle and I lost my grip on reality as Vayne exploded. All I felt was a sense of relief. I was tired… so tired…

*

I woke to a sense of brightness and sat up groaning, rubbing my head. Vaan and Penelo squealed and enveloped me in an enormous hug. We had done it. We had defeated the Undying. We had freed Dalmasca.

Their exuberance was catching. Balthier and Fran smirked at each other, partaking in what I could only presume to be a secret handshake. I stood and went over to them, and the force of my gratitude that my premonitions had come to naught and we were all still alive and in one piece and sharing this triumph together made me reckless. I wrapped my arms around Balthier in a tight embrace and kissed him, long and hard. After a startled moment he kissed back, heedless of the stares of the party. The constant refrain ran through my head. _We did it. We did it. _It was a heady thing, and kind of hard to credit. After all that anxiousness and fighting, it was over. The blue sky stretched above us, beckoning the sky pirates home.

The air of celebration was punctuated, however, by the sight of a damaged skiff shooting overhead. Ashe turned to lead us with a determined look on her face. Our job was not yet over. We may have won the battle, but we still had to stop the war.

We raced through the various levels of _Bahamut_, meeting few soldiers, and those we did were running in the opposite direction and paid us no heed. Back at the lift, we found Gabranth and Larsa, well enough in spirit, waiting for news. Larsa took the tidings of his brother's death with maturity and calm resignation. If I had doubted it before, I saw in him now the makings of a great leader. Basch lifted his brother, who couldn't walk, Penelo slipped her arms about Larsa's shoulder, and the nine of us moved on. The lift seemed to take an inordinately long time – despite the situation, the children were chattering, Basch, Ashe, and Fran were planning in low tones, and Balthier and I were holding each other – and then it was a sprint to the finish, out the corridor to the launch pad and back inside the _Strahl_. After so long in the strange, eerie confines of the Sky Fortress, the _Strahl _was like a sanctuary, especially with all the shooting and blasting going on outside her. Balthier squeezed my hand and then he and Fran went to work. He sat at his console, fiddling with controls.

"Well? Can we fly?"

"No fuel goes to the glossair engines," Fran replied.

"Damn!" Balthier swore. The effect of the nethicite had dried up the reserve. Either that, or the constant fighting outside had damaged one of the connections. He turned to Vaan, who hovered curiously behind.

"Vaan, you're in charge," he told the boy. "I'm checking the engine room." He stood, touching him on the shoulder.

"Right." Vaan sounded bewildered, but eager. Balthier turned back, cocking a finger. "Fran, with me!" The viera rose and followed him with alacrity.

The _Strahl _(or the pad she was on) bucked then, pushing the two of them into me. I put my hand out to steady them, trying to see out the portal.

Ashe noticed it first. "Look! _Bahamut's_ glossair rings are stopping!" She pointed to where the green-blue glow was fading from the machinery above us.

Balthier took charge, seeming to come to a decision. "Vaan! As soon as the _Strahl_'s rings move, you take off. Understood?" Vaan began to slide into the seat. Balthier could not resist another comment. "You can fly her, Vaan. Just do it like I told you."

"Don't worry." At least the boy sounded competent.

Fran guided the worried-looking Penelo into the co-pilot's chair. "Penelo, watch for interference from _Bahamut_'s skystone," she instructed, as Ashe took her seat. "The _Strahl_'s a fickle girl. You keep her working for us." Penelo's face turned alert. "I'll see what I can do."

Fran nodded and pushed past me. I followed the two past where Basch and Larsa sat in the back tending to Gabranth, feeling a twinge of sympathy. When Balthier heard my pursuing feet in the corridor, however, he stopped.

"Siyana, what are you doing?" he asked.

My voice showed my confusion as I answered. "Helping you. You'll get the work done faster with three rather than two, and I've done these kinds of repairs before."

Balthier put his hands on my shoulders.

"Thank-you, but I'd rather if you went back and checked on Vaan and Penelo. With children piloting my girl, I'd prefer it if someone with experience was there to take over, just in case."

The words seemed natural enough, but I knew when I was being patronized. My eyes narrowed as I tried to see through this thin veneer of a mask. "What are you planning?" I murmured, almost to myself.

Balthier's response was to take me in his arms and thoroughly distract me with a kiss so profound that I would not have noticed if the ship burst into flames around me. An eternity it seemed to last, and yet too short, before he pulled away and disappeared down the corridor with Fran. Bemused and more than a little dizzy, I went back to the cockpit, settling myself between Vaan and Penelo, who were running routine checks with only a little bit of difficulty. Sometimes I had to tell them where to find a button and remind them to watch their monitors instead of staring out the window, but that was all.

It was difficult for me to keep my eyes from what was going on outside, as flashes of paling bloomed over Rabanastre. Thus, it was Penelo who noticed the change.

"Vaan, the power's back!" she called. I smiled inwardly. It must have been the reserves. Fran and Balthier did quick work. Subconsciously, I began waiting for the sounds of their footsteps behind me, so I could celebrate with Balthier. Penelo's monitor chirped, reinforcing her words. "We can go!"

Vaan hesitated only a moment. "Right! Let's go!" He got the _Strahl _into the air and her wings open with none of the smooth familiarity of Balthier, but that was to be expected. "Grab onto something!" he warned as his fingers curved around the throttle, and I braced myself against both seats as the ship shot into the sky.

At last, I heard footsteps, but it was not the ones I sought. Basch and came up behind me. There was a deep look in Basch's eyes and I could guess what must have happened. Noah was gone. In his hand Basch held Balthier's trick communicator, and turned it on resolutely.

"_This is Judge Magister Gabranth,_" he said in his brother's voice. Now the twins' roles were reversed. "_All quarters cease fire! I repeat: All units of the Archadian army, hold your fire!"_

Vaan brought us to the center of the field and we hovered there, between the two sides, the _Garland_ behind us and the _Alexander _before.

"_The battle is over," _Basch continued. _"As of this moment, we have signed a cease fire with Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca, Her Royal Majesty." _Hearing Basch say the title somehow made it more official. He turned and gave the communicator to Larsa, who stood behind. Having no need to imitate anyone, the boy used it straight.

"Attention. This is Larsa Ferrinas Solidor." His voice was crisp, clear, and commanding. One would never have been able to tell that this was a twelve-year old who had just undergone immense fear and pain, and was now taking on the mantle of emperor for the first time, having had next to no preparation. "My brother Vayne has died with honour in battle. The Imperial Fleet is now under my command!"

I do not think that there was a single person in the cockpit who wasn't proud of him. The fighters around us hesitated, but there was still firing going on.

Ashe took the communicator from Larsa. "This is Ashelia Dalmasca," she said.

The Marquis' voice came over the channel with the sounds of relief from his crew. "_The Lady Ashe. Thank the gods you live!"_

Ashe did not waste time with pleasantries. "I confirm what Judge Magister Gabranth and Larsa Solidor have said here." There was no uncertainty in her voice. This was what she was born to be. With Larsa in Archades, Ashe in Dalmasca, and Al-Cid in Rozarria, I mused, how different the world could be!

Ashe echoed my sentiment. "Please, stand down your attack. The war is over." All across the battlefield, firing ceased from all sides. "Ivalice looks to the horizon. A new day has dawned. We are free!" Emotion overcame her, then, as she turned off the communicator. Basch put a hand on her shoulder. Something passed between them, but I was too distracted to pay it much heed except to find it very interesting.

Penelo's voice, however, was alarmed. "Look Vaan, the _Bahamut_!" We all crowded around the portal to look. The very bottom of the Sky Fortress had made contact with Rabanastre's paling, and blue rippled over the entire length of the city. It looked very grim.

An unfamiliar voice came over a disused channel. "_This is Judge Magister Zargabaath, captain of the _Alexander, _flagship of the 12__th__ Dalmascan Fleet of the Archadian army. I address all ships in Rabanastre's airspace._" He had a firm, no-nonsense voice that sounded used to command. "_The _Bahamut_ must not be allowed to fall on the city of Rabanastre! We are preparing to ram her! Do not interfere!"_

Everyone in the cockpit gasped, and Larsa looked stricken. It was a heroic move, but suicide. I realized then that I had misjudged the people of Archadia (no pun intended). I'd had no idea that some of them would be willing to risk their lives for a vassal nation. I was suddenly sorry that I'd never had a chance to meet Zargabaath.

"_Should she fall," _the Judge continued, "_the paling will not hold, and all Rabanastre will be obliterated!" _The _Alexander _began moving into position. The cockpit was suddenly very quiet. _"All ships, concentrate your fire on the _Alexander_'s remains once _Bahamut _is clear of the city!"_ Larsa hung his head in his hands. If there was only some other way…

"_Hasty, aren't they?" _The voice, mangled with static, somehow still managed to retain its warmth and tone of light amusement. Ashe stood, looking relieved. _"I think it's a little early to be throwing away our lives just yet." _And I smiled, because the voice was Balthier's, one that I would know anywhere – know and respond to, whether I was awake or asleep… or even dead. I took a step forward, preparing to speak into the intra-ship communicator that sat on the dashboard.

But that was not the communicator that was active.

"Balthier? Wait, Balthier, where are you?"

I forced myself not to comment for the thousandth time on the vulgar way Vaan pronounced the most beautiful of names, instead feeling a vague confusion overtake me. Vaan was using the wrong communicator. Balthier was in the engine room… wasn't he?

"_Ah, Vaan,_" Balthier said, and I could feel the lines easing from my face. _"Sounds like you made it out okay. The _Strahl'_s a fine airship, eh?"_

The lines returned swiftly. He, more than anyone, should know whether or not we'd made it out. He'd done it.

An unfamiliar, accented voice came over the communicator – the _inter-_ship communicator, I realized now.

"_What does he think he's doing? Balthier!"_

"_Marquis!" _Balthier's response was swift. _"Stop that fool Judge on the _Alexander _for me, would you?" _His voice was faintly annoyed. _"Just getting somewhere with these glossair rings. Almost done. Don't want him ramming me before I fix them, do we?"_ An explosion came over the channel, muffled only slightly by the static, and he let out a grunt of exertion. I blanched, and my knees began to shake. I knew I would crumple if I did not hear the voice return. My teeth came down hard on my lip, my nails making lines in my palms.

My mind seemed to be moving as if through molasses, unwilling, trying to protect me from the conclusion that was inevitably coming. Balthier was fixing glossair rings. The ones on the _Strahl _were clearly in perfect working order. And no-one would be thinking of ramming the _Strahl_. That could only mean one thing.

I left the cockpit, pushing past a worried Basch who reached out to stop me, quite inconsequentially, and headed for the engine room, Ashe's voice echoing in my ears as I moved down the hallway.

"_Balthier! Do you understand exactly what it is you're doing?" _

I frowned as I continued. Of course he knew what he was doing. He thought through every move before he made it. But I would not allow myself to realize what he was doing until I reached the engine room, so it was perhaps more painful when I discovered exactly what I'd been expecting to see.

The room was empty. Even the sounds of running machinery could not detract from the utter stillness of this room. No one was here. Balthier and Fran were not about to join us, as I'd so desperately thought. I began to breathe heavier, all the conclusions I'd unsuccessfully kept at bay crashing down on me.

_Crashing_. A poor choice of words.

A quick movement caught my eye, and I whirled, though I knew it would not be the one I sought. Disappointment swelled in my chest nevertheless, as Nono flitted up to me.

"Siyana, kupo!" she squeaked, tugging urgently at my sleeve. "You have to go up to the cockpit and talk some sense into him, kupo! I tried to stop him, kupo, I really did, but he just brushed me off and told me to look after the _Strahl_! He's in danger, but he'll listen to you, I'm sure of it, kupo!"

"Nono…" I breathed. There was a conversation going on in the background, and it filled the silence.

"_Princess! No need to worry. I hope you haven't forgotten my role in this little story. I'm the leading man. You know what they say about the leading man? He never dies." _There was the sound of activating machinery not unlike the sound when an airship was preparing to take off – even over the channel I recognized the glossair initialization processes.

"_Let's fly!_" he exulted. I could just imagine his expression; pumping his fist in the air, exuberant at the thought of flight as he never was at anything else. _"Fran! Power to the glossair rings. Fran?"_

My midsection cramped from all the clenching it had been doing. What was wrong with Fran? Balthier, for the briefest of instants, had sounded worried, something that almost never happened. His sigh rustled down the channel, edged in distortion, but it was still the sigh that could make me sigh with him, no matter the circumstances. _"Do I have to do _everything_ around here?"_ His voice was so low and personal, it seemed like he was standing right beside me.

Ashe's voice was almost as anguished as I felt.

"Listen to me, Balthier. Get out of _Bahamut _immediately! Please, Balthier. You mustn't die!" She paused over that last, her voice pushing out the hated word as harshly as I pushed it away from me.

"Please, Balthier," Ashe repeated, and her voice was no longer that of a commanding sovereign, it was that of a woman, worn and sad. "Come back."

Balthier didn't sound like he was listening.

Fran's voice came over the channel, faint and halting – was she hurt?

"_I'd say you're in more of a supporting role."_

"_Fran, please." _

The repartee was familiar to me. I wanted to laugh, I wanted to cry, and I found that I could do neither.

"Now! Do it _now, _kupo!" Nono, frantic now, prompted me.

I ran to the cockpit, not allowing myself to think. My hand was on the communicator held by Ashe, the other on her shoulder, when Balthier spoke again. I froze, as did the shoulder I was holding.

"_Vaan, the _Strahl's_ in your hands. You'd better take care of her, you hear? If there's one scratch on her when I get back…" _he left the threat unfinished. I could only imagine what he was planning on doing – not that he was in any position to follow through right now. I tried to let his words comfort me. _"When I get back_…" He would never leave the _Strahl _in Vaan's possession for any length of time. That would be a good incentive. And me – where did I rate? But what were the chances? What could any of us do? I drew breath to speak into the communicator anyway, but Vaan beat me to it.

"Roger that," he responded. "We'll be waiting for you." He didn't sound anxious, or saddened. Just eager, expectant. He saw no reason to doubt Balthier's words – either that, or he was putting on a brave face for Penelo, who looked to be on the verge of tears.

But my mind was on hold. My suddenly nerveless hand dropped from Ashe's shoulder as the line went dead. A fuzzy haze clouded my brain. Balthier was somewhere I wasn't. I knew that it was wrong with every fibre of my being. I had to get to him, somehow. And then everything would be fine.

I rushed out of the cockpit again, nearly bowling over an unfortunate Larsa, who was stumbling out of his seat. I could hear Ashe behind me, her anxious cry echoing off my cold, metal shell.

"_Balthier!_" I could almost hear his response. '_Intriguing, Princess, I didn't know you cared…' _But the words were hollow. They weren't real. And the name Ashe called was not the one running through my thoughts.

_Ffamran Bunansa, you melodramatic, glory-grabbing bastard! I don't care if you're the leading man or not – you put me through hell, and now you're getting the same! _I would never let him out of my sight after this. The man was too troublesome to leave alone.

I stumbled slightly as Vaan increased the speed and cussed, hearing another set of feet behind me. I didn't have time to turn and see who it was. _Dammit, Vaan, if you've messed up my angle…_ Not that I'd had much of an angle to begin with. I'd been wracking my brains for the last few seconds, realizing I hadn't the foggiest idea of how to actually reach _Bahamut_. The closest I'd gotten was to cut the power to the glossair rings and let the fortress' sheer size and displacement pull us in. I was fairly certain that there was a chance we'd survive, and if we couldn't reach Balthier, it didn't matter. Balthier might be upset about the damage to his ship, but I could easily repair it – once he was back with me.

I was in the engine room and actually had my hand on the cables when hands gripped my arms from behind. Feeling a belated sense of déjà vu, I whirled to meet Basch's eyes.

"Let go of me!" Even I was surprised to hear the hysterical edge to my voice, which of course made Basch do the opposite.

"You have the Archadian Emperor on board!" he hissed. "You can't take us all down with you!" I was mildly impressed. He'd figured out what I was doing. I struggled, quite ineffectually.

"I don't give a damn who's on the ship! Balthier's down there, and so am I!" If possible, his grip tightened even further.

"Siyana, what can you do for the man?" I could not fault his reasoning, so I would not let it touch me.

"I can be there with him!" I pummelled his chest with my fists, too far gone to notice whether or not it affected him. Probably not. "It's wrong, all wrong! Sephira dies first! I'm supposed to die first, dammit! He can't die now, because he's the leading man and_ I'm supposed to die first!_" My words were no longer making sense, even to me. I collapsed into Basch's chest. If he hadn't been supporting me, I would have fallen all the way to the floor. I was shaking with suppressed emotion. I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. Basch just held me, whispering soothing words in my ear that I couldn't hear, or heed. Under his arm, through the viewport, I could see _Bahamut_ descend, from this height seeming to settle almost gently to the sand. But the shock of the impact reached us, even all the way up here. I could feel my body shutting down – I didn't want to see, or hear, or think, preferably ever again. Darkness encroached on my eyes, muffling my ears, stifling my brain. I sighed in relief, letting the peaceful blackness claim me. The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before while the numbness that kept me from realizing what I did not want to know now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under.

I did not resurface.

* * *

**A/N: **Next up: the aftermath.

P.S. - if any of you have a WoW account and want to go on some quests with ickle level 8 me, send me a PM with your character name and I'll add you. Mine is the same as my pen name. I can't join groups or guilds or send messages because I'm just on the free trial at this point, but I'd love to see you around Azeroth. Until next week: ciao!


	35. The Aftermath

**Disclaimer: **You're a disclaimer. Don't forget it.

**A/N: **This chapter has been heralded with much speculation. I hope you enjoy the direction I'm taking the story. All I can say is: angst and fluff, my friends, angst and fluff. My two favourite things in the world. I briefly considered taking this section out and making it into its own story, but there is a significant amount of development slipped in, almost in spite of itself. Apologies if needed.  
This chapter is also inspired heavily by New Moon. I do not apologize. For the rest, I can only ask you to bear with me. My ambiguity is the price of neutrality.  
With that said, I do sincerely hope you enjoy Chapter 35! I hope I haven't put anyone off - that wasn't my intent. Go wild!

* * *

Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each second aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.

*

The days I spent in the infirmary, curled up on a bed that should have belonged to someone who was actually injured while the healers tried to figure out what was wrong with me – those days blur into my memory, occupied with the darkness behind my eyelids, meant to convince everyone that I was sleeping, when really I was trying not to think. The murmurs around me stirred something inside, something that began to claw its way to the surface, something that I didn't want to face. It became harder, as time went on, to shy away from the inevitable awareness that was coming quickly towards me. The murmurs gained strength now – they couldn't figure out why I was so unresponsive, and I was taking up valuable space.

_Then move me, _I wanted to say, but I couldn't seem to form the words. _I can suffer elsewhere as well as here._

It was not long afterwards that strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me gently, but implacably, from the bed.

'_Come now, Siyana_,' a voice said in my ear – not the voice I wanted to hear, but enough. '_Time to go home_.'

But home was not what I wanted. I didn't have a home any more.

Nevertheless, I let him take me, and by the time he set me down again, I'd even managed to open my eyes. I was in a cab, one of the vehicles of royal transport in Rabanastre. I knew this, but the information meant little to me now.

The springs of the couch settled as Basch sat near me. He did not speak – he wasn't aware I was awake, I supposed. That was good – I hadn't made up my mind whether I desired human speech yet.

It wasn't long before he glanced my way, however, and when he did so, my mind was made up.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked. My voice was harsh from disuse and pain.

Basch's face was filled with sympathy and pity, the two things that I least wanted to see, so I closed my eyes again. The darkness behind them was soothing… comforting. It protected me.

"Ashe has set the party up in a villa while she prepares for her coronation. Vaan and Penelo are there, too." The names were not those I wanted to hear. I wanted desperately to ask if there was news, but I thought it best to keep myself from the knowledge a little while longer.

"How long have I been… out?" The word was as good as any to describe my previous state.

"About a week. Siyana…" his voice broke, and he tried again. "The healers begged me to take you away. You weren't eating, you weren't sleeping, you were just… existing. You scared us all. We thought we were going to lose you…" He cut off the rest of the sentence, but I heard it anyway. _Too_. So there was no news. Basch had given them up for lost.

_No_. The thought was vehement as I pushed the knowledge away from me. I had to keep it away, or else the ledge in my mind that I was clinging to with such desperation would crumble, and my sanity would slip away. Even so, I wondered – how long could I continue to push it away?

The cab shuddered to a halt – we'd arrived. Basch helped me out and I staggered forward, leaning heavily on his shoulder. My legs were barely able to support my weight. I felt so fragile: like my previous ordeals hadn't strengthened me at all; like a single word or touch could shatter me.

The door opened before we reached it, and Penelo rushed out – she must have been waiting for us to arrive.

"Oh, Siyana!" Her face filled with worry as she took in my weakened state. She seemed hesitant to touch me. On the verge of tears, she held the door wide as we entered. Vaan stood in the entryway, looking no less anxious, but less vocal about it than Penelo. Basch sent him scurrying after some water as Penelo said she would make some soup. My feeble protests were ignored. I did feel empty inside, but it was not from hunger.

I gulped the water gratefully and choked down the stew, and after I had, everyone seemed calmer, hopeful that I was returning to normal. I myself felt little different, but I was resolved to pretend. I didn't want to worry everyone any more. I didn't want them to know that there was no longer "normal" for me.

Penelo spoke tentatively. "Ashe sent a message. She can't come to the villa, but she wants to see you, as soon as you're able. She was worried about you, too."

What could Ashe want? I wasn't sure. She would probably want to talk about… recent events. Well, if she did, it would be best just to get the painful discussion over with. I stood.

"I can go now." My voice was a little stronger, I noted with satisfaction. That was an aid to believability.

Instantly dissent arose.

"Are you sure?" Penelo gasped. "Shouldn't you get some rest?"

I began to move to the door. Basch moved to support me, but my legs were stronger now, too. It helped to have a purpose.

"I've spent an entire seven days resting," I reminded the girl, "I can attend upon the Lady of Dalmasca when she calls."

The cab was still sitting outside the villa – Ashe had assigned it to the house. Basch – who had taken it upon itself to escort me – climbed in beside me and we were off to the Palace.

"I never would have believed, two years ago, that just following a patron would someday let me see the inside of the Palace," I said. It was easier to remember farther back, and not to speak of… _him_. Though I supposed, considering the upcoming conversation with Ashe, speaking of him was unavoidable.

"Indeed. The gods work in intriguing ways," Bash replied.

They did at that – to give me my greatest sorrow on the heels of my most anticipated joy.

But the thought was too painful to bear for long. Remembering that night was in stark contrast to the emptiness of my life now; thinking on how happy I had been, high and full of hope, sickened me with my own voidness. I thought about the old tales, how lovestruck heroines would reflect, upon the loss of their true love, that half of themselves had been taken away. That was not the case with me. I had molded myself so completely to my true love that there was nothing left of me now, just an empty shell; existing, as the healers had so knowingly termed it. I wondered if the upcoming conversation with Ashe would break me – even that, though, was a vague and detached emotion.

There came a soft touch on my shoulder. "Siyana, we've arrived," Basch murmured. "Did you sleep?"

I shook my head – sleep still eluded me, and would for some time, I knew.

The inside of the palace was beautiful, and grand, and I wished I had seen it under better circumstances so I could appreciate it properly. Parts of it were still being prepared: wings not lived in for years, Vayne Solidor's "improvements" being torn down, and suchlike; the passageways were a bustle of activity. No one questioned our presence as Basch led me expertly through the chaos to the receiving room. Ashe, while not yet crowned, had set up a temporary court in one of the minor lounges in order to oversee the redecoration of her palace, and she was giving orders to some maids as we arrived. When she looked up, a light came into her eyes that I am sure had little to do with my presence. The maids, sensitive to such things, curtsied and exited.

"Ah! Basch, Siyana." We both bowed our heads respectfully; not the full honour one would accord a ruling Queen, but still a mark of deference. I blinked. She looked different. Instead of the well-worn travel clothes seemingly compiled from a variety of other outfits, she wore a floor-length lavender gown and pastel slippers. Rather than being worn down, as I was accustomed to seeing her hair, she had it up in an elegant twist. Her lips were touched with carmine, and there was powder on her face. There was no crown on her head, but she wore already the royal seal. Out of the corner of my eye, I noted Basch's eyes lingering on the exposed curve of her neck.

"I'm glad you were able to respond to my message so quickly," she continued, clearly slow to get into the habit of the royal 'we'.

"I must admit, I haven't been the most sociable for the past few days," I said, demonstrating my talent for massive understatement. Ashe nodded, and I saw nothing but understanding in her eyes, luckily no sympathy yet. Instead she turned to Basch.

"Some of the palace guard have been wanting to ask your opinion on some aspect of the new battlements," she told him. "I said I'd send you around the next time you came."

Basch recognized a dismissal when he heard one. He gave Ashe a half-bow, nodded to me, and went out. Ashe rose from the large armchair that served as her throne.

"I've just had dinner sent up to my rooms," she said. "Will you join me?"

One does not refuse a request from one's sovereign, crowned or not. I neglected to mention that I was not hungry and had already eaten, and followed Ashe through the complex, myriad hallways of the palace. Seeing my bewildered expression, Ashe allowed herself a small grin.

"I got lost here on my first day back, I'm ashamed to say. I took a wrong turn looking for the council chamber and ended up in the kitchens. After that, I had to follow an attendant around until I relearned the lay of the place."

We climbed a flight of marble steps to reach the royal living quarters. A gilded wood door at the end of the hall marked Ashe's suite.

When Ashe had said her room, she had truly meant _her room_. Remnants of the child she had been could be found in the light pastel décor, the stars embroidered onto the coverlet on the curtained bed, the dolls, still covered in a layer of dust, tucked haphazardly away on the shelves. Ornate glass doors led out to the small balcony, framed with lacy curtains that billowed in the light breeze. Ashe smiled softly at my hesitation – she seemed to be doing a lot more of that recently.

"I'm not allowed to move into the Queen's rooms until I'm officially crowned," she explained, toying with a stuffed bear on the mantelpiece. "I don't mind, really. I missed my room. I was so happy when I learned Vayne hadn't desecrated it." She moved to the balcony, where a meal was laid out neatly on a sideboard. I followed her, about to sit, when I caught sight of the view.

The Sky Fortress _Bahamut _could clearly be seen over the rooftops of Rabanastre. I clenched my teeth as I went to the railing, gripping the stone so tightly my knuckles hurt as I surveyed the wreckage.

"_Bahamut_," I breathed.

Ashe came to stand beside me. "Yes, there it lies. I've spent many a sleepless night gazing upon it, hoping it would hold answers, but the ruins are silent."

"No news, then?" I asked, tearing my gaze away.

"No word," Ashe replied helplessly. "Nothing. I've sent out search party after search party, begging them to report any trace…" She sank into a chair and put her head in her hands. "Either way, they've completely vanished. I've thought it over a thousand times, from every perspective. If they got away clean, why haven't they come back yet? If they survived, but were injured in some way, they couldn't have gone far, so why haven't we found them? If… if they-" she forced herself to continue. "If they didn't make it, there should at least be _something_!" She stood up, pacing in her frustration. "It's as if they never existed, and I can't figure it out!"

I spoke much more certainly than I felt. "There was so much going on around _Bahamut _that no-one would have ever noticed if something left it. The ruins are pretty well-preserved. If they never left, I'm sure the scouts would find some clue. They're probably just out there, somewhere, biding their time."

Ashe sighed. "I do so want to believe that. That's what all of my advisors tell me, anyway – they're afraid I might crack under the stress."

I turned to her with a smile I didn't feel. "I don't have the luxury of doubt."

She nodded solemnly. "I understand that better than you think. I might yet, too, you know – there's so much to do. And everyone knows I cared for them."

Even though I knew exactly what she meant, even though it was all in the past, I still stiffened at her words. She nodded, as though she'd been expecting it.

"That was one of the things I wanted to speak with you about," she said, sitting again and indicating the place across from her. "Will you sit?"

I did, unwillingly. She began pouring tea from a silver tea service, not looking at me.

"Siyana, I know you don't want my sympathy. I can only dimly imagine the pain you must be going through. I only know how much _I_ hurt, and you cared for him so much more deeply."

I looked up at her, startled, and she inclined her head as she spooned in sugar. "Yes, it was no more than a passing interest, I'm afraid. He had something I thought I'd lost, and I wanted it again," she said. "But the price, I found, was more steep than I'd planned on paying. I didn't care much about him past the way he made me feel, and I wasn't prepared to spend the time and effort to work past his mask and get to know him as a person. You did." She handed my cup to me, meeting my eyes across the table. "He chose you, in the end," she said. "I wanted you to know that, so that it won't drive a wedge between us."

I accepted the cup. How could I tell her that it was those words that made it so painful to think on his loss? I'd had exactly what I'd wanted for such a short time…

"Thank-you," I said softly. "It means a lot to me, it truly does. But I never blamed you, not once. I thought that you must be better for him, if I couldn't hold him." Thinking back on the time when I'd thought I wasn't good enough was strange – like it was someone else's life.

"No." Ashe let out a half-giggle. "We were quite unmatched, actually – I've never met a person more ill-suited to the life of a Princess Consort than Balthier Bunansa."

I almost smiled, despite the way the name ripped open my wounds. Imagining him living in the palace under the title of Princess Consort was almost comical, though I supposed stranger things had happened.

"Our lives do conflict less, I'll admit," I said, unable to use the past tense. "Sky pirates are less in the habit of staying in one place as Princess Consorts."

"Yes – about that," Ashe mused, sipping her own tea. "I've been meaning to ask you: one of the first things I intend to do in office is grant Balthier and Fran a full pardon for services rendered – _in absentia_, if need be."

I inclined my head. "That's a wonderful idea, Ashe – though he will not much like you lowering the bounty on his head – he'll have to make it all up again."

She grinned. "Perhaps. But my question is: if I offered the same to you, would you accept it?"

I thought about it.

"It would depend, my lady…"

Ashe caught the change in my tone. "On what?"

"On whether the same would be extended to my partner."

Frown lines creased Ashe's brow.

"I do not think that the grace of the throne can, in good conscience, extend so far," she said. "As Blayne Fanchione has rendered no services, we are afraid we cannot offer him a pardon."

I nodded; the answer was fair, and no less than I'd expected.

"Then I cannot, in good conscience, accept what is not being offered to my partner. Thank-you, Ashe, but I must respectfully decline."

Ashe looked troubled. "Perhaps, then, I could place a non-restraining order on the _Shera_? It amounts to the same, in the end, and it would be dreadfully embarrassing to have to arrest a hero of the realm."

I half-smiled. "Now that, I do accept," I said.

"Excellent."

All our business concluded, Ashe and I lingered over our lunch until Basch returned. Of course, nothing would do but he had to sit and take another cup of tea. I was eager for the gathering to end, but hid my impatience as Ashe and Basch discussed the southern battlements. Already Basch had elected to step into the role of Judge Magister Gabranth in order to conceal both his brother's death and the fact that Basch fon Ronsenburg yet lived. Until Ashe gained the power to change history with royal decrees, everyone still thought Basch dead, rightfully executed for treason. It saddened me that even after Ashe issued a full pardon, Basch would still have to live under the guise of the brother who stole his face.

"Lord Larsa wishes to return to the capital," Basch said, after several minutes of preamble.

Ashe looked sharply at the knight. "How soon?" she asked. "Don't you think it a little early? Half of the Archadian fleet's soldiers are still in the infirmary."

Basch spoke reasonably. "Your Highness, the Archadian Emperor cannot afford to be away from his country for as long as it will take those men to heal. He has sent for medical ships from Archades to transport the wounded. I, as Judge Magister Gabranth, must stand at his side, or risk exposing us all. We agreed…"

"I know, I know." Ashe cut him off. "It's just sudden, is all."

During my absence, the party (or what remained of it) had held a secret meeting. They had determined that the true story, of the Occuria, the Sun-cryst, and the manufacted nethicite, was too much for a recovering world to take. The story of Ashe's feigned suicide and her fostering among the Resistance was plausible, and near enough to the truth, so we let it stand. But there would be no return from the dead for Basch. To keep up his pretence as Gabranth in order to keep Larsa safe, as he'd promised his dying brother, not to mention the fact that there would be little gain and much risk in exposing the Marquis Ondore as a liar twice over, Basch fon Ronsenburg was no more. Ashe had always known that Basch would leave for Archadia. It was one of the continuing sacrifices that she, as Queen-in-waiting, would have to make. She would miss him, I knew, and his abrupt departure had taken her by surprise.

We left soon after the two had nailed down some further aspects of policy. In private, Basch would act as an ambassadorial liaison between Ashe and Larsa, dealing with sensitive matters too secret for the public ambassador to discuss in court. The departure of the Archadian delegation was to be in just two weeks.

Back at the villa, it seemed like everyone else had something meaningful to do. Vaan had acquired himself an airship, a fixer-upper to be sure, but the boy seemed well-satisfied, tinkering away contentedly in his workshop, day and night. Penelo was happy taking care of the villa, puttering about from one place to another, never sitting still. Basch had his hands full with plans for both upcoming coronations, and he was beginning to take on the mantle of his brother's responsibility.

I had nothing to do, feeling left behind by a rapidly changing world in which my role was not clearly defined. The hole left by the two missing members of our group was felt by all, but their duties were sufficient to distract them. I was left to dwell on the emptiness in my life and the ache in my heart, with no distraction from the agony.

To be fair, it was no fault of theirs. I was always welcome to join them, and even Basch found a way to make time for me when I needed him. For a while, I helped Vaan with his airship, but the work reminded me too much of them. After a few days of this, when my grief incapacitated me, Vaan noticed my hyperventilation. He put a hand on my shoulder, worry and kindness mingling in his gaze.

"I got this," he said. "Why don't you take a break?"

So much for what little I could do. Briefly, I considered asking Penelo to teach me housework.

There was a little ladder that gave access from the balcony to the roof and I climbed it now, sitting on the sun-warmed tiles and gazing out over the rooftops of the city.

Suddenly, it was there. As if drawn by a magnet, my eyes lighted on the ruins of _Bahamut_, stark and monolithic against the afternoon desert sky. I clenched my fists so hard my nails bit into my palms, jaw locked, but no tears came. There is a kind of healing in letting your grief wash down your face, but I could not find it. I just stared, mind empty as the rest of me, while the shadows lengthened and the sky faded to red.

"Dinner!" Penelo's voice, quite near me, broke the trance. "Didn't you hear me, Siyana?"

I shook my head to clear it, feeling with dismay the numbness that had come upon me fading away. In its place was the now-familiar burning agony, all the stronger for its absence.

"Dinner. Right. Thank-you, Penelo." The girl took in the rustiness in my voice and my sunburnt face and said nothing, merely nodding and heading back down the ladder.

Conversation at dinner was very carefully safe, staying away from any sensitive topics. I appreciated the effort, so I didn't tell them that it didn't matter.

That was the first night I can recall having the nightmare. It wasn't frightening – or at least, wouldn't be to anyone else. It never failed, in all the successive times I had it afterwards, to horrify me. There was nothing, really. Nothing but nothing. Just an endless maze of trees or clouds or sand, so quiet that the silence pressed against my eardrums. The light was dim, only enough to show me all the nothing that there was. I rushed through the mist, pathless, seeking, seeking endlessly, my search growing more urgent as time passed, trying to move faster, but my speed was unerringly, frustratingly set... Then it came. That one point (in time, I came to recognize and dread it, unable to wake and avoid what was inevitably coming) when I couldn't remember what I was looking for. When I came to the realization that all this was pointless, that there _was_ nothing to search for, and nothing to find. That there would never be anything more than just this empty, dreary expanse, and there would never be anything more for me… ever again…

My screams brought Basch running.

His sword was naked in his hand, a habit born of long years of war; he wore only his trousers, hastily donned. His eyes scanned the room – after assessing that there was no danger, his attention turned to me, shivering with fear on the bed. I was still not quite awake, and dreams mingled with reality bewildered my eyes.

"Oh, Siyana…" The exclamation was little more than a breath as he dropped his sword with a clatter, having already realized what was going on. Before I could do the same, his strong arms were around me, rocking me as he would a small child, stroking my hair and murmuring soothing words.

"Hush, now, Siyana, shh, 'twas only a dream…" Under his ministrations, my hyperventilation calmed to a muffled whimpering, finally subsiding into more regular breathing. I looked at Basch's silhouette beside me in the darkness, gratitude filling me. "Thank-you," I whispered.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked, his voice soft. I hesitated, conflicted.

Basch nodded. "I'll go," he said, understanding and nothing else saturating his tone, and began to rise.

Fear, sudden and irrational, gripped me like a vice, and I gasped at the pain of it, reaching out instinctively to grasp his arm.

"No," I breathed. "Please. Stay."

This time it was he who hesitated, surprised by the obvious need in my words. Still paralyzed with terror, I explained my reasoning. "I've already lost so much," I told him brokenly. "I won't survive losing you, too."

It was enough – he softened into my touch, relaxing. "All right, Siyana, shh, now," he whispered, for my breathing had begun to race again. "I'm not going anywhere."

_But you are,_ I thought stubbornly, snuggling deeper into his chest, feeling suddenly cold. _You're leaving me in less than a week._ Tenderness and exhaustion overwhelmed me, then, and I slipped willingly into oblivion.

I slept late, and Basch was gone when I woke. The sun streaming in my window, however, sufficed to shake off the shadows of the night, and I went to the main room to break my fast, applying myself to the food with more goodwill than I'd had in a long while.

But Basch was long away, and as the day passed I found myself slipping back into my black mood. Drawn by some impulse I didn't full understand, I made my way to the roof, staring at _Bahamut_, feeling numbness steal over me like an old familiar blanket.

A touch on my shoulder roused me – Basch, his eyes wide and concerned. "Siyana?"

With an effort, I smiled. "Dinnertime?"

Basch bit his lip. "Siyana…" I waited, but whatever he wanted to say was not forthcoming. He nodded at last. "Come on." I followed obediently.

This sequence of events quickly became a routine. I woke up in the morning, spent the day staring at _Bahamut_, and at night, Basch stayed with me and kept the nightmares at bay.

The others watched me with much trepidation, but after several days of it, only Basch spoke up.

"Siyana," he began tentatively, carefully, as one would speak to soothe a wild animal, "what can you hope to gain from this? Sitting on the roof, staring at the ruins all day… it's not healthy."

Something within me snapped, something I hadn't known I'd been repressing. I let loose a wild laugh, driving Basch back a few startled paces.

"Honestly, Basch? My life is over, and you're worried about my _health_?"

He put his hands on my shoulders, both comforts and restraints, eyes filled with twisted agony. "Yes. Your life doesn't have to be over. Not yet. Live, Siyana."

His words sufficed to sober me, and I sighed, feeling a profound weariness. "How, Basch? To what end?"

"Archades," he answered, shaking me a little. "Come with me."

In a vision, I saw it laid before me – endless days of eating, sleeping, and staring; an early and prolonged dotage stretching out my days. I felt a little spasm of horror. That was what would surely happen if I stayed here.

"All right. I'll come."

"Thank-you." Basch's simple words were laden with relief. He believed I was finally starting to heal.

A pleasant lie, no doubt. Even as I gathered my meagre things the next morning, setting off with him, I knew in my heart of hearts that it would not change a thing.

* * *

**A/N: **Next up: Archades! (And significantly different from the last visit!)


	36. Second Encounter

**Disclaimer: **"They think me some common thief!"  
"Better than a common disclaimer."

**A/N: **I just want to say an especial thank-you for all the wonderful reviews I recieved vis a vis the previous chapter. I really appreciate them, and they've given me heart. I can only hope that you enjoy this chapter as much as the last one (and that all you Basch fans out there don't want to kill me by the end. You'll see why.)  
Also, I've taken some creative license with the details of the hunt (anyone who's done the hunt will know what I'm talking about). I take it so infrequently, however, that I think it justified. But you, the readers, can be the judges. In addition, I mean absolutely no offence to anyone who has actually been in the positions I've described (either alcoholism or self-mutilation), and I fully respect what those people are going through. This is just to further the story. Without further ado, please enjoy chapter 36!

* * *

I sat in a tavern trying to drown my sorrows.

It wasn't working.

Basch knew what I was about when I disappeared for hours at a time; any time, morning, noon, or night. He'd tried to talk me out of it, several times.

His protests were usually lost by the third bottle.

The thing was, I knew that he was right, I knew it wouldn't help, that in order to get the dulling of the ache that I craved, I'd have to get more and more inebriated. I knew what it must do to Basch to see me ruining myself pining after his rival, with not a thing he could do about it but tend me when I came home. And I loathed myself for it.

Yet…

It was the only way. I drew the dagger I wore in a boot sheath, flipping it through my fingers, considering its sparkles in a vague way. It would be a simple matter to dig that sharp little blade into my skin, to let the inner pain find an outlet in the outer. I must have pondered this solution a half-dozen times. The only argument that swayed me was that I would enjoy it entirely too much, and its purpose would be wasted. And so I found myself continuing to binge, plunging deeper into that dark swampy pit until I finally managed to convince myself that it was worth it.

That was most often around the eighth bottle now. Five, if I was drinking _madhu_. In a few short weeks I'd transformed myself from the vibrant girl-of-gil turned sky pirate who'd held her own against the Undying to Archades' most widely recognized drunk. Whenever I was capable of a coherent thought I cringed at what Bal- … what _that man_ would say if he saw me now.

It was always enough to send me slinking into the nearest tavern.

But today, I was only on my second bottle and mostly in the coherent stage, trying my utmost to get out of it as fast as possible. The bottle lured me: _today's the day… the day you'll finally forget… just for a moment… _the voices around me hadn't yet faded into a comfortable drone, but they would, soon enough. This was _madhu _after all.

"They say the Hunter-Stalker's been getting desperate lately…"

"Say he don't e'en sneak up on 'is victims no more…"

"I heard tell o' someone what's _seen _him…"

"That's worth a drink…" A pause.

"I hear he's a big green Bangaa, crueller and fouler than most. He's got a gang of three cronies…"

'_Each of them more despicable and idiotic than the last. He has this unhealthy preoccupation with me – I'm personally inclined to think he's jealous…'_

"Did your friend mention where one might find him?" I asked. It caused something of a sensation. Most regulars thought me incapable of speech, and I had been, up until then. But it was as if the words had lit a fire in me that kept all other feelings at bay.

The man shrugged. "You're not the first ardent wanting to make a name by bagging the Hunter-Stalker, lass. Better hunters than you have tried and failed."

_And how many of them have beaten one of the Undying? _I thought, but I merely said, "Nevertheless. If one were willing to try, where would one start?"

"I hear tell there's some Clan out in the provinces what's put out a petition for the Stalker. Run by a moogle, no less!" some wag among them shouted out. The rest of his companions hushed him, terrified that the city watch would hear him referring to the 'provinces', but I had bigger things on my mind. _Montblanc_… I hadn't thought about my diminutive friend in quite some time. I hadn't hunted for a while, either. Not since I met Blayne. Perhaps it was time to take on another assignment. But I hesitated. Basch wouldn't like this at all.

I slipped unnoticed out of the tavern, leaving the gil on the table, and made my way to the Senate tower, where Basch was officially housed (and myself unofficially). Whether or not I thought he would stop me, I had been difficult enough to Basch lately without the added worry of my running off without telling him.

The name of Blayne had not entered my thoughts for a time long enough to make me feel guilty. I did not forget my duty to him, and it had been almost a year since I had left him, but I couldn't go back. Not lugging all my emotional problems and frailties. I had been trying to make myself a better partner for him (or at least, I had told myself that so as not to think myself so unbearably selfish), and I was not. Not now.

I let myself into the small apartment as though seeing it for the first time (since I'd rarely entered it sober). It was mostly dark, but I could see candlelight flickering on the walls from down the hall. Basch sat at the desk in his bedroom, surrounded by stacks of reports. I frowned. I knew it was part of his job, but the image didn't fit him. Moving around vigorously suited him better. I thought Larsa would have known this.

I lightly tapped the door as I entered and Bash, engrossed though he was, looked up instantly. He blinked when he saw me.

"Siyana? I'm a little surprised to see you… this early." He'd fought hard to keep the accusation out of his voice, but I could sense it. I forced myself to move nearer, knowing I deserved much worse.

"It's all right, Basch. You can yell at me as much as you like. I don't deserve forgiveness."

Basch stood. "You're even reasonably sober tonight," he said in the same tone. "What's the occasion?"

I got straight to the point. "I'd like to go back to Rabanastre. Just for a little while."

"I'm not stopping you." Basch shrugged. "May I ask why? Is it to stare at the _Bahamut_ some more?"

I shook my head. "I'm going back to see Montblanc, to take on a few hunts."

"Another form of distraction?" As I opened my mouth to reply, Basch cut me off. "No. That's all right. It's infinitely preferable to the alternative. Was that all you wanted?"

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Basch… I'm so sorry. More than I could ever say. I was in so much pain, but… I trod on everyone else, thinking only of myself. Even now, I'm still being incredibly selfish. You've been nothing but kind to me, and now I'm leaving again…" No tears came. I still couldn't cry. I felt a hand on my shoulder and opened my eyes. Basch pulled me into his embrace.

"Think you I don't grieve for him also?" he murmured, the vibrations of his chest lulling the ache in my heart. "I wanted nothing more than for you to find happiness with him. Truly. It's all right. I understand. Do whatever you need to, and come back when you're finished. I'll be here, waiting for you."

_That man could never have given me such an assurance,_ I thought. _And if he had, I could never have believed him. _I returned the embrace tenfold.

"Thank-you, Basch. From the bottom of my heart, thank-you. I love you, so much."

"I love you, too." He stepped back. "When are you leaving? Tomorrow?"

I nodded, still feeling guilty. "On the first airship."

Basch smiled. "Very well. Come to bed now."

I rose with first light, guilt still coiled in a knot in my stomach. My intentions were not as noble as Basch believed. It wasn't distraction – it wasn't even revenge. I didn't have a name for the emotion that was filling me. Vindictiveness, perhaps, came close. I loathed myself. And no matter what Basch said, I couldn't be forgiven. Not when I was acting so selfishly. But why was I acting this way, if _that man_ wasn't really gone? Of course not. Of course he wasn't. All I had to do was wait for him. I would. But I had to do this first. And then I would wait for him, the one place he would be sure to come.

Such were my thoughts as I dressed in the early morning light. Basch finished his daily exercises as I watched him. Each line was so strong, so clean. There was no hesitation, no holding back. There was no deceit in Basch… as there was in me. As there had been… _was_ in that man.

When Basch finished, he remained in his civilian clothes rather than taking on the garb of Gabranth. I blinked, surprised.

"I've time enough to change later," he said. "I can hardly be Judge Magister Gabranth when I'm taking you to the Aerodrome."

"You don't have to –" Basch kissed my cheek. "I insist."

I relented, and we set out together, hand-in-hand. Since it was still fairly early, there were few people about, but already ardents were up and running, and shopkeepers set up for the day's business. None of them spared us a second glance, if indeed they noticed us at all. It made Basch happier, and he visibly relaxed. I could tell that being constantly in the public eye took its toll on him. I was happy to be with him, but the simple pleasure of the moment did nothing to make me rethink my decision. If-when _he_ came back, the last place he would come was Archades. That I knew with absolute certainty.

Despite the hour, the Aerodrome was fairly busy. Basch took me to the Rabanastre flights counter and, over my protests, paid for my ticket. He accompanied me to the boarding lounge, and we waited for the airship to arrive, looking at all the couples looking for an "exciting" vacation in the "exotic" clime of Dalmasca, and the families with sleeping children, slumbering on each others' shoulders with quantities of luggage stacked about their feet. I had no need of luggage – my purse was securely attached to my belt and my sword was strapped to my waist. It was all I needed. My gaze lingered on the children for some reason I couldn't describe. The two of us, accustomed to rising early, stood at the great bay viewing window. Basch slipped his arm around my shoulder.

"I fear I was too unkind, last night," he said, pitching his voice in a whisper only I could hear. I twisted to look at him, shaking my head. "I deserve much worse. I've been awful to you." He stroked my hair.

"I told you, didn't I? I understand. You knew him longer than I, and deeper." His voice was calm and neutral. "When you lose someone like Balthier… Well, he certainly has a way of making an indelible imprint on your life."

"Indeed." And it wasn't just him. We'd lost Fran as well. I felt terrible for not thinking of the viera as often as I thought of him. "Gods!" I exclaimed in an anguished whisper. "Why did we have to lose _both_ of them?" _Lost_, not dead. They weren't dead, couldn't be dead.

Basch held me. "It's hard. I know it's hard. I miss them, too." We stood silent a while, watching. "And now here we are, the two they rescued," Basch said, almost without breaking the silence. Of course, they'd saved him as well. Me from the bonds of servitude and self-loathing, he from much more tangible restraints.

"I remember the first thing he said to me," I said quietly. "He said, 'Let's have a look at you and we'll see.' I ask him how I might please him, and the first thing he replies makes me feel inadequate." I let out a breath that was not quite a laugh.

"Doesn't seem like a very memorable first line," Basch replied. I almost smiled. It was impossible to refer to him without using player's terms.

"It was, though. After he said it, and I looked at him, he made me feel like I would never be good enough. I'd never felt that way about anyone before."

"Weren't you?" Basch asked curiously. "Good enough, I mean." He didn't sound embarrassed. A few weeks with me, even without sex, had cured him of that. I nodded.

"I was, but it took until the last night. The night before…" I swallowed the words I had been about to say. "…_Bahamut_… for me to realize it."

Basch squeezed me tightly. "I'm sorry." He paused. "You'd never felt that way before?" he repeated.

"I'm just that good," I said blandly. I laid my head against his shoulder. "With him, it was only a feeling. I _know_ I'm not good enough for you, Basch."

He kissed my forehead with surprising fierceness. "Don't you _ever_ think like that, Siyana," he said. "I won't allow you to get an inferiority complex over me."

"_He _didn't, either," I retorted immediately, still unable to say the name. "I never told him." Basch looked seriously at me. "He knew. Siyana, all of us could see it. You were so desperate, constantly. And he liked keeping you that way." The words struck deep, but not as deep as they might have. I knew why that was – he'd wanted to make sure I would never leave him.

"It doesn't matter now," I replied softly. "If that was desperation, then I enjoyed it."

There was silence for a while.

"'I'm not in the habit of speaking to the dead,' Balthier said to me. 'Especially when they happen to be kingslayers.' I said, 'I did not kill him.' 'Oh? Glad to hear it,' he replied." Basch smiled slightly. "I was desperate, also. I'd just heard that Ashe had been captured. Then Fran dropped the cage, and everyone jumped on top." His voice was laden with memory. "And then I was free." He looked back at me. "Do you know, Ashe is the only nation leader who has refused to declare a remembrance ceremony for the two of them? She's issued a full pardon, but she won't proclaim them dead." He watched my expression carefully. "You don't think they're dead, either." It was not a question. I looked away.

"I don't know what I think." Basch half-smiled again.

"Gods, I'd hate to be around if you're sure."

I nodded. "So would I."

The airship arrived, and we shared one long, final kiss.

"Come back when you're ready," Basch said, "and give my greetings to her Majesty and the children." I promised him I would, but was unable to promise I'd be back soon. Something told me it would be a very long time before I saw Basch again.

We did not say good-bye, because this was not the end, but we did say 'good luck'.

When I boarded, I went directly to my private cabin, there to while away the four-hour trip back to Dalmasca. Through the porthole, I could just see Basch, standing in the bay viewing window. It was getting on in the morning – he would run the risk of being late for work to see me off. The thought, while distressing, filled me with a warm feeling inside as I leaned back on my couch, fiddling with the teardrop pendant that hung around my neck and closing my eyes, trying to empty my thoughts, which for so long had been dwelling on one topic. For the first time, I perceived a profound _weariness_. Could it be that, in some miniscule part of the tiny bit of me that thought he wasn't coming back, that I _wanted_ to let him go?

_(_Joy. Ecstasy. Love. Good enough_.)_

'_Balthier? Wait, Balthier, where are you?'_

'_Ah, Vaan. Sounds like you made it out okay. The _Strahl's_ a fine airship, eh?'_

'_Marquis, stop that fool Judge on the _Alexander_ for me, would you? Just getting somewhere with these glossair rings. Almost done. Don't want him ramming me before I fix them, do we?'_

_(_Confusion. Fear_.)_

'_Balthier! Do you realize exactly what it is you're doing?'_

'_Princess. No need to worry. I'm the leading man. You know what they say about the leading man. He never dies.'_

(Hope. Fear. Action.)

'_Balthier! Get off _Bahamut _immediately! Please, Balthier! You mustn't die!'_

(Sorrow. Pain. Anger. Anguish.)

"_BALTHIER!"_

I woke with a start, the first time I had said his name since the disaster on my lips.

Drenched in tear-mingled sweat, I sank back down onto the pillows, panting. Now I remembered why I had taken to drinking – the nightmares. My anguished days were bad enough – I didn't need the hyper-realistic dreams keeping me from sleep.

_When that man gets back, he'd better be ready to answer for all this, _I thought. But my treacherous mind kept repeating _if_, and I despaired. What was I doing? Where _was_ he?

Upon my arrival in Rabanastre, I made straight for the hangar-with-a-house-attached that Ashe had accorded Vaan and Penelo. Having stayed there before, I knew exactly where to go. I rapped on the door.

Luckily, Penelo wasn't out. The door opened.

"Siyana! What a pleasant surprise!" The girl opened it wider to admit me, chattering away. It was so good to see me, it had been a while with no news, what was it like living in Archadia, had I seen Blayne yet… The girl's enthusiasm was endless, as were her questions. I let myself get swept up in her happiness, managing to forget my mood for a while until she sat me down with a plate of food and some thin ale.

"Vaan's out getting parts," she said, "he should be back soon. So, how's Basch?"

I took a sip, careful not to gulp. Quitting was going to be harder than I'd realized. "He's well. Pretty busy, though. Larsa has a lot to do before he sits comfortably on the throne."

There was a pause.

"No, no news." Penelo shook her head. "Ashe has had squads out regularly since you left, exploring, gathering information. There's nothing. I hope you didn't come back just for that."

"Actually, I was thinking of going back to Montblanc, taking on a few hunts," I said. "Just to take my mind off things."

She nodded. "That's a good idea, actually," she said. "I hear he's got some good ones these days. I'd come with you, but someone's got to stay here and hold the fort while Vaan pursues his airship dreams." An indulgent smile. "Would you like to see her?"

I nodded. "Of course!" I wanted to see how far along Vaan had gotten since I'd left.

Penelo led me to the hangar with all the pride of a queen. She showed me the bare bones of an airship sitting on cinderblocks. The work seemed to be progressing well.

"Vaan wanted to make some 'modifications', so she looks like this for now," Penelo informed me. The girl gave me a run-down on the engine capabilities Vaan planned to instil. We spent a little while discussing the ship from every angle. I examined the work with a critical eye, but aside from a few suggestions for convenience's sake (the books swore up and down that one must route the circuit breakers through the aether systems before getting to the thunder magicite core processors, but in reality that step could be bypassed and tied straight in), I could see nothing wrong with the work. The children, surprisingly, knew their stuff.

And beyond…

"The _Strahl_," Penelo said, following my gaze. The scene was picture-perfect – a single shaft of light from the partway opened hangar door fell on the ship which bore its namesake, giving it a magisterial and almost shrine-like appearance. I approached it with slow steps, eyes never leaving its polished surface. The screaming of my heart was quieted, yet there was something painful, too, in beholding something filled with so much of… him. I touched the ship's pale undercarriage, the cold metal seeming charged to my hand. The _Strahl _wanted to fly.

"Vaan won't fly her again," Penelo said softly. "He says she'll wait for Balthier to reclaim her. Nono approves – she comes in now and again, but never stays long. Vaan always puts the _Strahl _before even our own airship."

The deep affinity I felt with the _Strahl_ extended even to my emotions – like the ship, I was grounded, waiting for him to make me fly.

I turned back to Penelo. The hangar seemed brighter.

"Oh, Siyana," Penelo cried, upon seeing my unshed tears, running to me and pressing her body against mine. "He'll come back. I'm sure of it. You mustn't cry."

I held her small, warm body to mine, taking comfort in the belief of someone other than myself that he was not truly dead, even as I noted the element of desperation in her voice.

Soon after, Vaan returned. We went to the Sandsea for lunch, and talked about airships, current events, the upcoming coronation; anything but the topic that was heaviest in our minds. Vaan was even more convinced than Penelo as to that man's survival, as was evidenced by his responses every time anything relating to the matter was referenced. Unhesitant, he was unwavering, unshakable in his belief, and I took strength from his youthful optimism.

I stayed at Vaan and Penelo's that night, and in the morning, I went to the Clan Hall. I had indulged myself in sleeping in, for all the good it had done me, since most of the time had been taken up by disjointed nightmares, and I felt distinctly un-rested as I entered Clan Centurio.

As soon as the door closed behind me, Montblanc called out from his accustomed place on the railing. "Siyana, kupo! Welcome back! I was starting to think something had happened to you, I hadn't seen you for so long. What have you been doing, kupo?"

Conscious of the stares of the other clan members, I shrugged and smiled – I hoped it looked nonchalant as I intended, and not like a contortion of my face. "Oh, this and that. It's good to see you, too, Montblanc."

As the rest of the hunters turned to their own pursuits, I mounted the steps to the diminutive moogle.

"In fact, I've gone sky pirate, my friend," I told him in a quieter voice.

"I know, kupo! I'm so proud of you! I've also heard of your recent exploits – I was hoping you'd come back sooner so I could congratulate you. Imagine, clan members of mine saving the world, kupo! It boggles the imagination!"

I nodded, accepting his regard, but I found that thinking of it was too painful. I hoped to distract him before he inevitably strayed to the topic of the two of our missing number.

"So, Montblanc, any good ones?" I asked.

It worked – the moogle touched a paw to his chin, thinking. He produced a sheaf of papers. "Here are the hunts I have for you, kupo."

I examined them carefully. One caught my eye – to this day, I don't know why.

'_Priority Petition No. 9,_' it read. '_There's a monster that can summon a sandstorm with the beating of its wings… or so I hear! Only determined hunters need apply!'_

Well, I was determined. Very determined. The only thing left was to figure out why.

"This one looks good," I told my friend, a hint of steel creeping into my voice despite my best efforts. Whether or not Montblanc was aware of it, his response was swift.

"You'll sign on to the hunt? Excellent! I'm counting on you, kupo!

"And the petitioner is none other than… me, kupo! Listen carefully, and I'll tell you the details."

"I'm listening."

"There's a rumour going about that has me concerned, kupo. Talk of a monster wreaking havoc and mayhem. If you accept the contract, I can tell you more."

The steady fire that had been burning inside me flared. I took the contract from Montblanc and signed it with the quill he held out to me.

"I have only the vaguest information," he began. "Some of it may not even be true, kupo. So I had to select a hunter most carefully. And I chose you, kupo!" I shook my head indulgently. There was nothing particularly special about me as a hunter – I was sure another would have suited Montblanc's purposes just as well.

"Now, as for the details of the contract…" the moogle continued, "in the Nam-Yensa Sandsea, there are reports of a great beast whipping great torrents of sand into the air. This commotion is said to be the source of some fierce sandstorms, kupo. True or not, I cannot say, though _I've _never heard of such a monster." I frowned. Montblanc was rarely so uncertain, and there was a tone in his voice that I couldn't quite place.

"What else is it they say…?" My friend looked off into the distance over my right shoulder as though remembering, but the tone was definitely more pronounced now. "Ah, yes, kupo!" he said, looking back to my face. "To reach this monster, you'll have to pass through caves filled with quicksand. Yes, that's right, kupo. The monster is known as Belito. _Belito_, kupo. You may find nothing, but please do give it a thorough search, kupo."

And with that vaguest of explanations, the hunt began.

There was nothing else for it – the day was still young, and I'd gotten all the information I'd ever get out of Montblanc. As I was about to set out, another hunter, Monid, who was under suspicion of being the Stalker himself, offered to come with me, but I refused. For good or for ill, I needed to go on with this quest alone. Some of the steel that had emerged when I spoke to Montblanc must have made itself evident, for Monid did not protest, merely stepping back and muttering somewhat about 'foolishness'. I was free to go.

Wasting no more time, I left Rabanastre through Southgate, trekking through Giza Plains and meeting no challenge stiffer than the swampy marshes left by the rains to get to Ozmone Plain. Then it was a simple matter of finding the entrance to the Zertinian Caverns (based on the tales told me by Blayne, I'd taken Montblanc's enigmatic hint about quicksand to mean the access to the Sandsea from there). The enemies here were not much harder, and I passed unhindered. Remembering Blayne's warning about the scion dwelling here, I avoided it, taking an alternate route to the Nam-Yensa.

When I emerged, the blinding sunlight stunned me for a moment. Recovering, I could see nothing of note save the large refining platform soaring ahead of me, so I made for it, sweating in the heat. When I reached the top, I thought for an instant that it was empty, until my eyes lighted on the large green Bangaa standing statue-still at the far end. As I stared, it moved, coming towards me wielding the biggest ringsaw I'd ever seen. I gulped and stood my ground.

"Well, well, well." The creature had a voice like rocks grating. "What have we here?" He grinned, showing rotting fangs. "Ye're a brave lass, I'll give ye that, t'have gotten this far. But yer path ends here!" It was him – there was no way to doubt it. "We can't have ye spoilin' the bait, now can we?"

Hatred, fierce and deadly, rose in me like a tide, like a living thing, and I lost myself in it, who had not felt something so strong and alive for a month and more.

Unaware of the change in my mood, Ba'Gamnan continued his taunting, his cronies appearing from nowhere to stand menacingly at his sides. I didn't bother to tell them that I was beyond threatening.

"Now tell us yer name, gel. It's the least we can do t'congratulate a chit like yer e'en _findin' _us."

White-hot fury blazed, washing my vision in red. I had proven myself times over, standing against scions and the Undying. My journey would not end _here_, against some misbegotten, flea-bitten bounty hunter.

"I am Siyana Amaranth, House-trained Servant and hero of the realm, consort of Balthier Mid Bunansa. I know who you are, Ba'Gamnan, and I say to you: a road does indeed end here, but you are a fool if you would believe it is mine!"

There was silence for a moment, and then Ba'Gamnan laughed, a rockslide in the desert. His companions joined in, sycophantic and late.

"A little chit like you? Hah! A jest such as this I have not heard in all my days. House-trained ye may be, gel, but if ye claim acquaintance with Balthier, tell him he'd've been better served to come himself than to send in lying prostitutes with delusions of grandeur t'fight his battles. I'll let ye go t'tell him so, by virtue of th'entertainment yeh've provided, and I'll also give yeh somethin' for nothin': Balthier never loved anyone in his whole life. It'd cramp his style. Yeh'd be better off without him." He turned to leave, his companions doing the same. Clearly, he had been without news of the outside world for some time, stuck on this hunk of metal. A deathly calm settled over me, and Balthier's name no longer tore at my wounds. I suddenly knew what this had been for.

"He loved _me_," I said, and Ba'Gamnan turned back. Whatever he heard in my tone, he didn't question it. He merely stared, dumbstruck. "He loved me, but it doesn't matter anymore. He's dead!" The words were like whiplashes, leaving welts on my tongue as I spoke them. The knowledge filled me, heavy and implacable as a stone, and I realized I'd been lying to myself the whole time, desperately avoiding the cold truth: he wasn't coming back.

Ba'Gamnan laughed again, this time with a touch of nervousness. "Another jest, gel? Yeh should take my generosity and scram – this is gettin' old."

I bared my teeth with vindictive triumph, knowing the pleasure of being able to inflict my suffering on another whose life had also been centered around Balthier. "This is no jest, Ba'Gamnan. Balthier's dead, and you'll never get your bounty. All that you've striven for, all these long years, has been for naught."

A low growl erupted from Ba'Gamnan's throat, and he activated his chainsaw. "Ye'll shut yer trap, whore, if ye know what's good fer yeh! Balthier's mine!"

I drew my sword in response. "No. He was _mine_!" With that, I struck, slitting the throat of Bwagi, whose bullets I would have been unable to avoid, before the others could draw their weapons. The odds were against me. They were smart, but I was smarter – and I had nothing to lose.

Ba'Gamnan adjusted the setting on his ringsaw, and the whirring sound gained intensity, covering the sounds of his partner dying in his own gore. "Yer quick, gel, I'll grant yeh that. But it's lies yer tellin', and we've got remedy fer that. Yeh'll pay fer killin' Bwagi."

Rinok, the female, sprang at me with her spear as Gijuk, a martial artist, advanced from the other side. But I had dealt with fistfighters before, and I knew what to do. Waiting until both were inside my guard, I spun, kicking out and catching Gijuk between the legs. The air went out of him and he stumbled with a curse. I leaned sideways to avoid Rinok's thrust, catching her spear-shaft with my blade and severing it. She recovered swiftly, raining blows down upon me, but I leaped out of the way and she battered Gijuk instead. Parrying her sweep, I cut up and in, dealing her a death blow – she stumbled to her knees and died.

Unwilling to face an unarmed fighter with weapons, I charged, lowering my shoulder and letting my momentum carry me into Gijuk. It was a wrestling move that Basch had taught me, guaranteed to throw any opponent, be they Hume or Bangaa, because it dealt not with brute force, but weight transference, and I succeeded in bearing Gijuk to the edge, where he tumbled over the railing and met his end in the belly of a Yensa.

"I daresay he could have done with a good sand scrub some time ago," I quipped, turning back to Ba'Gamnan, who stood stunned at my defeat of his three cronies, but not for long. With a cry, he sprang at me, snarling.

"Yer gonna wish yeh'd ne'er been _born_, gel! And then I'll find Balthier an' do t'him what I should've done a long time ago."

In the midst of battle I laughed, sounding wild and utterly unlike myself. "It's too late, Ba'Gamnan! Your dream will never come true! I'll take it away from you, just as mine was snatched from me. It's just you and me now, we two who chose to mold our lives around Balthier. I'll make _you _pay for hounding him, trying to take away his freedom!"

Ba'Gamnan swung at me, and I parried, feeling the vibrations all the way up and down my arm.

"Yer crazed, gel," the Bangaa roared. "Balthier ain't dead! He's too canny fer that!" I shook my head grimly. I might have believed that, once, and wished so now for it to be true, but my conviction was still strong. I knew he wasn't. I would never see Balthier again.

I remember that battle very well. In my narrowed vision was only Ba'Gamnan, growing increasingly desperate as the fight dragged on, hearing only the hum of his ringsaw, our grunts of exertion, the clash of our weapons and the sounds of our feet on the metal platform. I could smell the acrid scent of fresh-spilled blood, sweltering in the sun, of sweat and sand.

"You're wrong!" I exclaimed – all battles must have an end. As must dreams. "He. Is. Dead." Sword flashing, I severed his left arm. Ba'Gamnan may have wounded me – I was past caring. "Dead." With the other half of the pattern I'd begun, I took his right arm. "Dead!" Another flash – his right leg. "_Dead_!" My voice rose to a grief-maddened scream, the ringsaw skittering away across the platform, forgotten. Ba'Gamnan stared at me with pain-filled, fearful eyes. I was deaf to his tortured pleas as I took his left leg. "_DEAD!_" With a wail, I sent his head rolling away from me, spilling blood. I dropped my sword, exhausted and more than a little mad. It was silent on the platform save for the desert wind and my panting breaths.

"Ffamran," I whimpered. I fell to my knees in the puddle of Ba'Gamnan's hot, sticky blood and turned my face to the uncaring, achingly blue sky. "Ah, Gods!" It was no more than an anguished whisper. "What have I done?"

I could feel it, then – the reckoning of the grief I'd kept at bay till now – I knelt there, while the blood of one unjustly slain soaked into my skin, and shed all the tears, long held back, that I'd not shed before.

It was like to my scene at the Pharos, and yet unlike, for though my grief flowed like a river down my face, I found solace in it, and healing. I had blood on my hands (and my knees, and everywhere else), and I would have to pay for that someday; nor did my tears make losing Balthier easier to bear, but something within me, something that had always been one step from insanity, softened. And when at last I was spent and had no more tears to shed, it was not emptiness I felt. It was not peace, either, but I could not ask for more.

I gave them a decent burial, Ba'Gamnan and crew – it was the least I could do for they whose sacrifices had saved me from madness. Unable to face returning to the city (and indeed, it would have been impossible to reach before nightfall), I made my way to Jahara and sought refuge with the Garif.

They have their own networks, the Garif, and they are deep in trade with the Giza Nomads, who would have heard the name of Siyana. The guards took one look at me and let me in without question.

I touched the Crystal by the gate, soul-weary and exhausted, feeling the bite of wounds I'd not known I'd received, while the Garif looked on, emotions hidden beneath their elaborate masks.

One of the taller ones touched my face gently with gloved hands, eyes glinting behind the eyeholes. He spoke in a serene voice, cracked with age.

"There is a blood-shadow upon you, child," he said softly. "The path you have walked has been hard and long, and I have but one piece of advice for you."

I clung to this piece of hope like a drowning man clutches a raft. "What is it, Grandfather?" I asked respectfully.

He stepped back. "Pay your debts," he advised me. I blinked, staring. How could he know of the accounts I kept with myself, the "owed" column now towering higher than ever before?

"Now you will wash in the River Soght, whose waters bring healing, and then you are welcome in my tent."

I bowed formally – they are a ritualistic people, the Garif. "Thank-you," I said gratefully. I now knew what I would do.

I knew hospitality there, in the tent of one known as Supinelu, and in the morning I rose with a purpose, unplagued by nightmares. I could feel the scar of my loss, pulling at my heart – it would never fully heal. I would carry it for the rest of my life.

The Garif rise early – there was no sign of Supinelu, though I'd wanted to thank him again. There being nothing else for it, I returned to Rabanastre. I did not go to Montblanc – I'd no desire to be rewarded for this least laudable of acts. My sojourn at the villa was brief, only to let Penelo and Vaan know I'd survived, to ask them to bring the news to Montblanc, and was headed back to Archades; I'd no wish to divulge the details.

I'd been wrong, I thought, as I waited in the Aerodrome for my flight. I would be seeing Basch very soon. And then I would beg for his forgiveness, as I should have done in the beginning.

The Archadian Aerodrome was very quiet – I stepped off the airship and got out my chops, ready to hail a cab, but then a hand closed over my own, stopping me. I looked up, startled, to see Basch's face, so near mine.

"Ba- Gabranth?" I remembered where I was and recovered just in time. His presence startled me. I hadn't sent ahead to tell of my arrival.

"Lord Larsa has people watching the airship registries," he said, by way of explanation. "One of them happens to be me."

That was all he got out, for I kissed him, then, long and fierce. And when it was over, ignoring the curious stares of the crowd, he pulled me into a royal coach and gave directions to the Senate Apartments.

"You came back," he said, and the wonder in his tone cut me to the quick. I could have replied any number of things, but all I said was "Yes."

"How was the hunting?" I shuddered, and he shot me a compassionate look. "What was it?"

"Ba'Gamnan." I closed my eyes and sighed the name. At his stunned silence, I looked up. "Yes, the same bounty hunter who was after Balthier all these years."

He started. "You can…" his voice trailed off. I nodded – I could say his name now without the crippling agony. Now it was more like pulling teeth. "My mood has… marginally improved, but it took four innocent murders to do it." My voice broke, at the end. Basch put a hand on my shoulder.

"Siyana, they were hardly innocent. They were bounty hunters. I've read their files. If I even told you half of the things they've done…" he cleared his throat. "I have to admit to being impressed. You took out four fully grown Bangaa on your own."

"You trained me well," I demurred, drawing closer to him. He chuckled, enfolding me in the land of safety that was his arms, and I found that I did not need to ask forgiveness. All was known, and already forgiven.

"Thank-you, Basch," I breathed, nestling closer to him. "For all the myriad times you've saved me, thank-you."

"Don't mention it," he murmured.

We'd arrived – he helped me out of the coach, swept me into his arms, and carried me across the threshold, as if we were a married couple. I drew his head down to me and kissed him, hard. Without breaking the kiss, he carried me to the bed and put me down. Only then did he look uncertainly at me, as if he were a child caught out at something. My heart ached with love to see him so, tentative and unsure. I took his hand. "It's all right, Basch. We'll take it slowly, at first. What is your pleasure?"

He blinked, startled. "You mean…"

I shook my head. It figured. I should have seen it sooner. Basch was a virgin.

"I want to do something for you, to thank you for all you've done for me," I said, "and I'm afraid this is the only way I know how to do it. If you don't want to…"

He knelt down beside the bed. "Yes. Siyana, I understand, and I'm grateful, but…" he seemed to search for words. "But when you ask what pleases me, the truth is, I do not know."

I ran my fingers through his cropped hair, feeling a shiver run through him. "Then let us find out, shall we?"

"I would like that," Basch whispered.

Getting up from the bed, I took Basch's hand and led him over to the nearest chair, kneeling between his legs when he sat. Slowly, exaggerating every movement, I undid his breeches, and his engorged member sprang free to glint dully in the candlelight.

"What do I do?" he asked, faint traces of bewilderment in his voice, staring at his nether parts like he'd never seen them before.

"You, nothing." I stroked the inside of his thigh, and he flushed. "This one's on me. Don't worry, it's no effort." I smiled reassuringly at his nervousness, and began.

At the first touch of my mouth on his taut phallus, he gasped and sank both hands into my hair. Remembering it was his first time, I determined to make it a good one, an act of worship performed with lips and tongue. It was enjoyable for me, too: beautiful, wonderful, and maddening. The sounds I made, the murmurs of pleasure, set his entire body to quivering. I never wanted it to end. I took the whole of his shaft in my mouth, cheek and throat muscles working, and he uttered a deep, stifled moan, his eyes nearly rolling back in his skull. He held my head hard, hips jerking, as his body sought to turn itself inside out and sent spurt after spurt of seed down my throat.

"Gods above!" he sank back in exhaustion. "No effort?"

"A little, maybe." My voice was low and sensuous, hoarse from my exertions. I could taste his seed on my lips. Ayla would have been proud, I think. My arts did not always have to be used for passion. She had taught me this early on. Liaisons could be undertaken as healing, and as gifts as well. This was both.

"That… That was…" Words seemed to fail him. I nodded. "That's what you've been missing all this time, Basch. And it's only just begun."

Basch smiled. "I can live with that."

I rose, gathering myself to sit on the bed, and he followed me. Pushing him down to lie flat, I undressed him, slowly, kissing every part I uncovered. I found the scars; tales of past battles etched onto his flesh. My touch lingered over the gash across his brow – a constant reminder of his brother. "Does it hurt?" I whispered. He placed his hand over mine, smiling. "Not any more."

Removing my hand, I held his eyes gravely, taking off my clothing one piece at a time. I saw him swallow, eyes wide.

"You don't have to do this," I told him softly, backing off. "We can wait…"

I don't know what I expected. He pulled me forward. My hair fell loose about us, curtaining our faces. His lips parted under mine, and our tongues touched, only the tips, tentative and soft. I felt his arms slide around me in an embrace, and kissed him harder.

"No," Basch murmured, breaking away. "Now, please. I don't want to wait."

He didn't say why and I didn't ask. I knew. It was a threshold. Until we crossed it, we could still go back, still tell ourselves it was nothing more than a few feverish moments of kissing. Afterward, it would be different.

"You're sure?" I whispered, when I was straddling him, my bare thighs nestled on the outside of his. His phallus was fair throbbing, the swollen head nudging my nether lips, which were parted and slick with desire, and I thought I might die if he said no.

"I'm sure." Basch shifted deliberately, and we both drew in our breath as the head of his phallus slipped inside me.

Inch by inch, I took him in until he was sheathed to the hilt. I felt like laughing and I felt like crying. I would have thought he would be uncertain – considering his previous reservations and celibacy – but he came to it with wonder, taking all that I offered with a kind of reverent awe. His hands slid over my skin and I wept at his touch, that had such love in it, tasting the salt of my own tears as I kissed him. I had chosen this – he was the only person I'd known to love me without it. We held each other and leaned our brows together, my eyelids fluttering and echoing the steady surge of ripples below. With my hands wrapped around his head, he clung to me and groaned against my breast, his seed spurting deep inside me. He cried out, at the end, a sound of wonder and amazement.

Everything was different now.

I rolled off him, lying beside him on the pillows.

"I… I think I understand, now," he said. "How you could do what you did. You have given me a gift, truly. Thank-you."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"You know, I could envision spending the rest of my life –"

I felt a thrill of uncertainty course through me at the words. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the rest.

"Don't say it." I touched his lips. "Please, don't."

Until then, I hadn't been sure that what Basch was feeling cast the same fearsome shadow in his heart that I felt in mine. But I saw the pain surface, and knew. We gazed at one another, face-to-face, and saw the vast, impending hurt that awaited us reflected in one another's eyes. Why was it that I would meet my match in one so ill-matched for me? There was only one person who was perfect for me, and he was gone. What would be next?

"Too late," he said quietly.

I looked at him silently. He was stable, dependable, solid. Everything I needed. Everything I could never be. I didn't deserve him, and he definitely deserved better than me. Someone reliable, who could make him happy in ways I couldn't.

Something else surfaced then in his expression; the calm determination with which he had survived the failure of three wars and the loss of two thrones. Basch rolled atop me with agile strength, propping himself on his arms.

"Then let's make it worthwhile," he said, thrusting into me.

I did my best to oblige.

* * *

**A/N: **Next up: happiness??


	37. Consolation

**Disclaimer: **May the disclaimer favour us all.

**A/N: **I got some interesting responses after last week's chapter. As for this chapter, all I can say is that I hope the Basch fans here are too few in number to succeed in killing me. =0 In any case, I really hope you enjoy!

* * *

The next morning Basch did his exercises in the garden – I watched him from the bed, still cocooned in the quilts. The cold air stimulated my mind, which was working fast.

What was the right thing to do?

A life without Basch was unimaginable. Somehow, he'd become the connection to my sanity and survival. But was it cruel to leave things the way they were?

It just felt nice when Basch held me – warm and comfortable and safe. Basch was a safe harbour.

I had it within my power, now. I could claim him.

I'd have to tell him everything, even though he would always know everything I could ever say – that look he'd given me the previous night had shown me that. I'd have to explain it right, so that he'd know I wasn't settling. He already knew, better than anyone, that I was broken, but he'd need to know the extent of it.

I would have to commit to this – as much of me as there was left, every one of the broken pieces. It was the only way to be fair. Would I? _Could_ I?

I just wanted to try to make Basch happy – was that so wrong? Even if the love I felt for him was no more than a weak echo of what I was capable of, even if my heart was far away, wandering and grieving after the leading man, could it ever be enough to erase just a little of the unhappiness in Basch's life?

Basch finished his exercises and came to embrace me. Again, it felt nice. Almost like being a whole person again.

Could I do it? Could I betray my absent heart in order to save my pathetic life?

"Siyana, I was thinking…" Basch seemed hesitant to breach the subject.

"What is it, Basch?" I asked, prompting calmly.

"I just wanted to make sure… there's no chance… of you…"

I thought I could see where he was going and smiled.

"No. You saw the mark. I don't have the ability to conceive unless you light a candle to Emmeroloth in my name." I paused. "You… didn't, did you?"

He shook his head, drawing me closer. "No. Neither of us can afford that right now, and I would never importune you in such a way. But I would, someday."

My breath caught. "You would? Truly?"

"Yes," he promised in a whisper, and I was faced with the comparisons again. _Why?_ I demanded of whatever uncaring gods were forcing this upon me. _Why, oh, why does it have to be this? _

Basch left for work, and I was still no closer to a decision. There was no cruelty in Basch – I should know, I loved him for it. But he would not play me the way I wanted, the way I liked. There was a way to make a torment of gentleness, and he had learned the basics of it that night, but I could see, if I wanted to remain with him, I would have to say goodbye to that side of myself forever. It saddened me in surprising ways.

I decided to do some chores while he was away, to make up for my previous uselessness, and headed for the market to do some shopping.

Between one thing and another, the shopping took all morning, and I only made it back to the apartment in time to have a quick dinner, and then a whim struck me and I went to see Eleonor.

The shop was bound to bring back some unpleasant memories, and I was right. Eleonor remembered me, and I spent most of the afternoon in the back of her shop, just talking. She was wonderful – with the perfect mix of sympathy and understanding that I'd been longing for. There were no few tears (both mine and hers): it seemed that once I had wept for Balthier, the tears flowed more easily.

So it was that it was nearing to evening when I at last made my way back home.

When I grabbed the doorknob to unlock it, it twisted easily under my hand. I frowned – I was sure I'd locked up before I left. I let the door swing open. The hallway was dark. Basch wasn't home yet, I supposed.

I fumbled to light the magicite in the dimness… where was that lamp?

The light glowed to life, though I still had not found it.

I blinked into the sudden brightness, and saw that someone was there, waiting for me.

Unnaturally beautiful and tall, with her red eyes intent on my face, my visitor waited perfectly motionless in the center of the hall.

My knees trembled and nearly gave out. Then I hurled myself at her.

"Fran, oh, Fran!" I cried as I slammed into her.

"Siyana…" There was a strange mingling of relief and confusion in her voice.

I locked my arms around her, gasping to inhale as much of her scent as possible. That was the only thing my hyper-realistic nightmares had been lacking. This was no dream. Fran was here – really and truly here.

I didn't notice when the gasping turned into sobbing until Fran dragged me to one of the armchairs in the living room and pulled me onto her lap. She rubbed my arm gently, waiting for me to calm down.

"I'm sorry," I wailed. "I'm just so happy to see you!"

"Seeing you gladdens me, also," Fran replied, imperturbable once again.

"What happened?" I demanded, unable to wait any longer to ask the vital question. "How did you survive? We all thought you were dead! Why didn't you contact us?"

Fran held up a long, slender hand to halt the flow of questions. "I am only able to answer one at a time," she reminded me. "As to what happened:

"After the glossair rings were repaired, I was injured by falling debris," Fran said simply, with no embellishments. "Balthier pulled me out and got us into one of the Imperial craft that had yet to take off when the battle began. We got clear of the Fortress' displacement but it was… difficult. _Bahamut_'s interference crippled our ship, and we were forced to make an emergency landing. Before that, however, Balthier was minded to push the craft as far as it would go. All Archadian military vessels are equipped with skystones made of nethicite, to resist _jagd_. We flew west, helped by _Bahamut_'s shockwave, and we made it almost to the Rozarrian border, where the Sandsea gives way to mountains and then to thick forests. There our luck gave out." I could read the meaning in it – they'd crashed. Fran was just too proud to say it. But why cross the Westersand when a hero's welcome was waiting for them in Rabanastre?

"There are covens of viera that live in the border-woods, and Balthier convinced them to take us in, that we might get treatment. We were there some weeks – our injuries were extensive. I promised to return – they were glad to see one of their own from another village, rogue though she be." She smiled softly.

My fingers dug into her arm. "And… Balthier?"

The smile dropped from her face. "He is well," she replied.

I waited, but nothing more seemed to be forthcoming. I frowned. Was Fran _trying _to kill me by slow degrees?

"Where is he?" I prompted. "Didn't he come with you?" She shook her head.

"Why not?" My voice was anxious now. I was inclined to believe Fran when she said Balthier was well, but so many other things could have gone wrong.

"He… did not wish to come. No more can I say."

My heart suddenly dropped and I fought the surge of rejection, strong and instinctual, that coursed through me.

"Did he not… wish to see me?" The words were harder for me to say than any I had ever said in my life. I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

"I cannot say. My mission was for Basch only. We did not know that you would be here also."

I was deeply curious about Fran's purpose here, but I could not allow myself to be distracted.

"So, Balthier is alive and well, but he didn't want to come with you and you can't tell me where he is. And you don't know whether or not he is still interested in seeing me."

"That is… correct."

I covered my face with my hands. "Well… that's something, at least." As poor as the news was, it was still news that would have been helpful a month and more gone by, before I became a drunkard. Before I went on a killing spree.

I looked up to meet Fran's eyes. "Why couldn't you have just told me this a long time ago? Why didn't you contact us?"

Fran's lips pursed – trying to decide, I thought, how much to tell me.

"We are working… under cover," she said at last. "Any contact, from within or without, would jeopardize our disguises – especially now that we are heroes of the realm. Let the world believe Fran and Balthier to be dead, and we are free from suspicion. As a sky pirate yourself, these tactics are known to you."

I frowned, because they were, and I had thought of it before. But I had never expected it to be true. I had fallen into the trap of thinking that Balthier and Fran's interests lay with the party – of course, they didn't. And yet, to be ready to leave us so quickly, to go so callously and immediately in search of yet another treasure, heedless of the ties they left behind… I'd never dreamed they would be capable of such cruelty.

"Fran," I began, trying to keep my composure, "we've just about gone crazy these past few weeks, all five of us… me especially. Is it so much to ask that you send even _one_ word?"

My attempt failed, a little bit – my voice got frantic at the end. Fran's eyes softened and she stroked my face.

"Perhaps not. But you must understand: Balthier's greatest sacrifice on _Bahamut _was not the mere risk of his life – something he has faced many times before – but the loss of his freedom. Allow him to regain what little of it he can."

I bit my lip. I _could _understand that.

"But at what cost?!" I exclaimed, jumping up. "Ashe's well-being? Vaan's broken-heartedness?"

"I did not say we did not regret it," Fran said calmly, "but it had to be done."

I closed my eyes, willing myself to calm until my mood passed.

"Then, why are you here?" I asked finally, in a hushed voice.

"Our undercover work has us on the trail of a legendary treasure," Fran replied, "but we have come up against a roadblock. Balthier has determined that documents in the Archadian archives can set us straight again. Basch, as Gabranth, has access to these documents."

I had to fight the surge of anger that rose in me. It stung to think that while we'd been stumbling about in the dark, Balthier and Fran had somehow figured everything out.

"And you think he'll just help you," I gasped, "after everything you've done?"

Fran cocked her head, listening. "We are about to find out," she said, her composure unshaken. It was some while until I, too, could hear Basch's approaching footsteps.

His reaction was much like mine: shock, relief, and then anger. I made supper while Fran and Basch caught up, and while we ate, Fran gave a more detailed sequence of events (though never mentioning any locations). Then she made her request.

Basch turned stark white, looking askance at me. I suppose he thought me the most wronged for the information. Was he asking my opinion, or my permission?

I stood abruptly. "I'm going to bed." I didn't have an answer, and as happy as I was to see Fran, I didn't want to think about it just then.

Both were silent as I went down the hall to the bedroom. I curled up beneath the covers, but I was nowhere near sleep. I pondered the decision Basch was asking me to make. Fran was going the legitimate route, asking permission first. If I refused, Basch would too, and I was only too certain of where that would lead. I didn't like the possibility of Fran getting caught stealing from the Royal Archives. But if Fran got what she wanted, she would disappear, and I would never see her again.

While I was thinking, sounds of casual talk came from the other room. But once a sufficient time had passed for me to have fallen asleep, they stopped pretending.

"How bad was it?" Fran asked.

Basch sighed. "Terrible."

"Tell me about it. I want to know exactly what happened when we left."

There was a pause. I waited, cringing.

"I felt completely helpless," Basch began slowly. "I had no idea of what to do. That first week, she was in the infirmary, though she wasn't injured. She wouldn't eat or drink, she wouldn't even move. Finally the healers told me to take her away – they couldn't figure out what was wrong with her, and she was taking up room. When I got her in the coach she seemed to revive a little, but once she came home…"

"Yes?"

"Well, she went to talk to Ashe, but Her Majesty was just as much in denial as Siyana was, and I wasn't sure it would help. It didn't. She stayed in the house, ate and slept. She answered when someone asked her a direct question. But… there was nothing inside her. Her eyes were dead. She started trying to get into the routine of things back at the villa, but it didn't last long. I had Vaan and Penelo reporting everything to me, and I finally figured it out – she was avoiding everything that might remind her of… him."

"We always had to watch our words around her, afraid that we'd say something wrong – the littlest things could make her flinch – and she never volunteered anything except very occasional requests for news – which only made things worse.

"She was alone all the time. She took to going up on the roof and staring at _Bahamut _for hours at a time – pretty soon she did nothing else all day. We were all concerned for her health, but we didn't know how to stop her without aggravating the situation. At last, I convinced her to come here with me. I was so relieved. I thought that would be the turning point, but I was wrong. The worst was yet to come."

"Which was?" Fran prompted.

"She started drinking," Basch said – it was a defeated sigh. "I didn't notice it for a while – she would leave when I did in the morning and come back late at night. We still didn't see too much of each other, so it wasn't until a couple of days later that I realized she was completely plastered. I begged her to stop, but she wouldn't listen to me. She just kept drinking more and more – some nights, she wouldn't even come home from the bar. But at least she stopped screaming."

"Screaming?" Fran inquired.

"She said drinking helped the nightmares. She would wake up and you'd swear someone was subjecting her to the most horrible torture…" There was a silence.

"Then one night when she came home, she'd _changed_. I can't find a way to describe it. She went off on a hunt for the clan, and when she came back, she told me that she'd killed Ba'Gamnan and his three thugs."

Fran took in a breath. "Ba'Gamnan… is dead?"

"Yes, and at Siyana's hand. And then when she got back here, she had some colour in her cheeks, some light in her eyes. We… made love, last night. She seems much happier." His tone was almost belligerent now, a warning, not for Fran, but for her to pass along. "I think, given enough time, I could make her feel better. I could be good for her," he insisted, and my heart wrenched.

"Then it is good she has you," Fran agreed.

Basch sighed in a big gust, folding quickly to the lack of opposition. "Well, perhaps that is an overstatement. I don't know… with me, still, now and again I see something in her face, and I wonder if I've ever grasped how much pain she's really in. It's not normal, Fran, and it… it frightens me," Basch went on in a hopeless tone. "I don't know if she's going to get over it, even now. It's not in her nature to bear something like this. She's always been such a constant thing. She doesn't get past things, or change her mind."

"She is one of a kind," Fran agreed in a dry tone.

"Now do you see? I'm worried about the effect this… _visit _of yours will have on her."

"So am I. I wouldn't have come if I'd had any idea. I apologize."

"Don't. She doesn't need your remorse. If you want to do something for her, tell her where Balthier is. I won't even listen. I just want her to be happy."

There was another silence, and suddenly Fran appeared at my door. She crossed to the bed and knelt, her eyes wide, calm demeanour shaken.

"Siyana…" She hesitated. "He's in Rozarria," Fran continued in a neutral tone, "in the city of Dimethicone. Ask for Allantoin."

Tears filled my eyes. I couldn't speak for a moment.

"Thank-you, Fran," I said at last. "Thank-you so much!" I turned to Basch, who hovered in the doorway.

"Give her the information, if you'd like," I told him. Fran blinked.

"It was not for gain that I told you."

I smiled. "I know."

Basch stepped forward. "Siyana…"

"Of course it is your influence, and therefore your right to use as you will," I told him. "But if you asked me, I would say: yes." He was silent for a moment, then sighed.

"All right, Fran," he said at last. "Let's go get what you need." He looked to me, and again I saw the impending hurt in those eyes that wrenched my heart. I smiled through the pain. "I'll be here when you get back," I told him. "I promise."

Basch nodded, relieved and satisfied, and went out. Fran lingered by my bedside.

"I understand why you did it, Fran," I said softly. "That doesn't make it any easier to forgive."

She nodded solemnly. "I know. And I thank you." She followed Basch.

I kept my promise. I lay awake for some hours, waiting. But now I had a small, burning sensation of warmth in my heart and I was still, savouring the sensation of actually having emotions. I repeated it like a mantra to myself. _Dimethicone. Allantoin._

I could have run around the room, jumping up and down and screaming. Instead I forced myself to lie still. There was a certain enjoyment in that, also. I kept running the concept through my head, trying to accept it, after all this time.

Balthier was alive. And I was going to see him.

It was much later that Basch returned, and he did not have Fran with him. I sat up in bed, wide awake, as he opened the door and stared at me.

"You stayed," he said, and he sounded so relieved and surprised it hurt.

"Of course," I whispered, not ready to tell him how hard it had been. "I promised, didn't I?"

"I know," he said, coming nearer, "it's just… I know how strong a pull he has on you."

"I keep my promises," was all I said.

Later that night, when both of us were trying to sleep and failing, Basch hesitantly stroked the lines of my mark.

"Siyana?" he asked. "What's going to happen to… _us_?"

I sighed. I didn't want to tell him that there had never been an _us_, and just how close it had come.

"I don't know, Basch," I said at last. "But I would never have made love to you, had I known. I'm so sorry."

Basch's motions stilled. "So it's like that, is it?"

"Yes." It was an anguished whisper in the darkness. "I don't _want _to hurt you, Basch. You have to believe that."

"I always knew this was a long shot, Siyana," Basch replied, shaking his head. "And he was there first. It's not your fault."

"It _is _my fault. I don't want to be told it's not."

"You're saying you want me to get angry at you?"

I nodded miserably. I deserved to be punished.

He pursed his lips as he measured how much I meant it. Then he twisted his expression into a scowl.

"How dare you lead me on like that." He spat the words at me. "If you knew you didn't really mean it, maybe you shouldn't have been quite so convincing about it."

I winced and nodded. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry doesn't make anything better, Siyana. What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," I whispered.

"I know what you were thinking," Basch said, and his voice was kinder. "You just wanted to be happy. And I don't blame you, Siyana… I know as well as anyone that Balthier is difficult to get along with. And you made me happy, too. I want to return the favour. I can't let you go on like this – slowly losing your mind with grief. I certainly won't be the cause. Go, and be happy."

Despite my best efforts, tears began to roll down my cheeks. I didn't deserve this.

"But I must ask you one thing," Basch continued. "Why? I don't understand. How can you keep coming back to him, after everything he's done to you?"

My answer came immediately. "His vow."

Basch raised an eyebrow, uncomprehending. The gesture was so familiar that I felt like crying all over again. "His what?"

"He vowed that he would never again give any part of himself away in love. It's why it was so hard for me to get through to him." I paused, trying to collect my thoughts. "In the beginning, he was certainly in earnest. But as time went on, he grew to forget the original motive and spurned love out of habit, convinced he didn't need it to complete him. I can't let him go back to that." I wouldn't let myself become just another tale for Fran to tell. Not to mention my own selfish motives – I couldn't bear the thought of anyone else making their move in the backlash. And part of it was my own self-righteous conviction – I was the right one for Balthier. Hadn't he told me so?

I smiled sadly at Basch's reluctance. "Tell me something, Basch: how can you keep on loving me, after all the things _I've _done?"

It was a low blow and I knew it, but Basch had to be persuaded.

"That's different," Basch said, but his eyes told a different story. He knew. And it was why he was unable to bring himself to stop me.

"It would never have worked out, anyway," Basch continued, trying to make his voice lighter. "You'd still have to be a sky pirate, right? Imagine how embarrassing it would be if you got yourself arrested."

I let out an involuntary watery giggle, imagining Basch trying to look stern as he judged me.

"We'd be in the shadows all the time, and you'd hardly be able to go out. I won't do that to you."

I curled into his side, selfishly seeking his comfort to the end. "There _is_ someone for you, Basch. Someone who can truly make you happy. Maybe your first… doesn't have to be in the past." I held my breath. If I'd miscalculated…

But I am rarely wrong about these things.

"How did you know?" It was a mere breath of air. I ignored the question. "I know she misses you. And truly, you are perfect for each other. You could make it work."

"Perhaps you're right," Basch mused, awed and transported at the prospect.

Emotionally drained, I slept then. When I woke in the morning, Basch was gone. Beside me on the pillow was a scrap of parchment on which were penned two words. _Be happy_.

I placed it reverently in the bottom of my satchel as I started packing. I would keep it until it fell apart. On the desk was an unsealed letter I was sure Basch meant me to see, just a few lines petitioning Emperor Larsa for a brief leave of absence to return to Dalmasca. I smiled. Basch would be fine.

With one last glance at the apartment that had been my home, I set off for the Aerodrome and my own reunion, leaving behind a similar message. _Thank-you._

**A/N: **And thus, healing is found. Next up: the Rozarrian city of Dimethicone!

* * *


	38. Only One

**Disclaimer: **And remember, no disclaimers.

**A/N: **Hello everyone! I apologize profusely for the delay; RL turned crazy and the chapter simply refused to get written and all that often-quoted jazz, but partially because I needed to take a little break. I have several other writing projects on the go and I wanted to spend some time with them. Whatever the reasons, I'm back now, and stronger than ever. I originally had this chapter written months ago, but then the story started shaping up in another direction and a complete workover was required. The process was exhaustive, but I think the results are worth it. Please enjoy!

* * *

My flight to Rozarria was considerably less anguished than the one to Dalmasca had been. For one, there were no nightmares. For another, I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that Balthier was alive. I let myself focus on that, finding it ironic that news of his survival should come so soon after I'd finally managed to convince myself he was dead. Concentrating on that, I tried not to think about what I was leaving behind. It was still hard to get my head around.

It was late evening when I finally arrived, due to the detour that the carrier had to make around the jagd conditions of the Yensan Sandsea. I thought of the four fresh, unmarked graves that lay somewhere below and sighed. They'd gotten what they deserved, but… to have been the one to do it…

Such were my thoughts as I disembarked and entered the Aerodrome. I had never been to Rozarria, and I was quickly overwhelmed by the polyglot babble surrounding me. Since I had no luggage, I could not fall into the "porter" trap, and I ignored those who presented themselves to me with oily bows – I'd seen their type before. "Guides" who would strip you of every gil you carried and then abandon you down some dark alley.

Dimethicone was large – about the size of Rabanastre. It was not the capital, but the city center was as clustered and bewildering as that of my own city, and twice as foreign (since I did not know the language). Clutching my satchel tighter around me, I foraged out of the Aerodrome, the foolishness of my actions staring me full in the face. How did I expect to find a single man in all this, without even knowing the words with which to make myself understood, my very nature screaming _'foreigner!' _to those with even the slightest inclination to rape me, pick my pocket, or both. I almost had a longing for a warm, stable presence at my side, but before the thought could come to fruition I dismissed it. I was very glad Basch had not asked to accompany me; I imagined him handing me off in some sick reflection of the father of the bride and shuddered. It was comforting to me that Basch had some notion, at least, of his own limits. His being here would just be a mistake, and heartbreaking both for him and for me. I drew myself up, gathering my resolve. There was nothing in this bewildering metropolis that stood even the slightest chance of standing between Balthier and me. If I had to walk up to every door in the entire city with only the word 'Allantoin?' on my lips, I would do it.

But first, I would look for a tavern of sorts, or anything that looked like it might serve the same function. Drink was a language everyone could understand, and aletap rumours often held grains of truth. I mentally calculated my funds as I walked down the street, keeping a careful eye on my purse. I would only be able to frequent one or two before I ran out – I had plenty of money, but carrying it all with me would have been begging for trouble. I would have to make my inquiries wisely, and trust to luck. Praying might also be in order.

As it turned out, I was not driven to such desperate measures. Hardly a block in a straight line from the Aerodrome (it is always best to keep going in the same direction when one is unsure of one's whereabouts), a poster made me turn. Countless other advertisements and propaganda had been jockeying for my attention in just the distance I had walked, but it was not flashy colours or a catchy slogan (however incomprehensible to me they may have been) that drew my eye. It was a name; a single name, solitary in the lines of text that preceded and followed it: _Allantoin._ Closer inspection revealed the citation of our most favoured playwright, and I gasped and the subterfuge. It was so simple… so _brilliant_. Players were above suspicion, and were too difficult to pin down in order to be implicated in anything because their stage names changed on a whim. And they were free to go anywhere, and see anything: no one would think twice about seeing a well-known player in the royal archives, in the ancient legends section, perhaps, looking up something to flesh out his character, no doubt. It was with great difficulty that I kept the chuckle from my lips; '_mad _foreigner' was not a title I wished to acquire at this point. If only I could understand Rozarrian so that I'd know where this play was to be held!

And then something extraordinary happened. What can I say? Sometimes the gods see fit to grant wishes.

"A countrywoman in need?" The voice came to my ear. I turned to see a man, pale blond and lanky, smiling down at me. He spoke Dalmascan with a heavy Rozarrian accent, putting me in mind of Al-Cid.

"You're Dalmascan?" I asked stupidly.

"Half," the man said affably, extending his hand. "Name's Paraben. May I be of assistance?"

He seemed nice, but I was not foolish enough to trust his motives. I did not take the hand at once.

"How did you know I was Dalmascan?" I asked suspiciously. I didn't even look the part.

"A countryman always knows," Paraben said solemnly, keeping his hand out. "You are wise to be wary, miss, but I give you my oath – I merely seek to help you."

I took his hand against my better judgement – in truth, I had no plan, and it would be no more than I deserved if this man played me false.

"Siyana," I replied, returning the handshake. "I am interested in seeing this play – I am familiar with it, and with the main actor. Unfortunately, I am ignorant as to the language in these parts and do not know where it is to be held."

"Ah, a simple translation, is it?" He bent in closer to the poster. His eyelids flickered, though his expression remained the same. "Ah. You'll want to hurry, _señora_. This showing is the final one, and it begins in just half an hour!"

Panic came to my face. Paraben saw it and whistled. One of the rickshaw pullers idling on the side of the street came running up, earning disinterested looks from his slower fellows. Paraben began to give him a hasty explanation in Rozarrian, the only words of which I caught was the name of the play. Suddenly he turned to me. "Have you gil, _señora_?"

I nodded, touching my purse. That, I had in abundance. "Enough."

The rickshaw was pulled by a brawny, homely youth who was willing enough when Paraben filled his hand with my gil. Paraben helped me into the cart and then got in after me, urging the youth to go. I glanced at him dubiously, realizing that it would be all too easy for him to have given the driver an order to bring me to some abandoned place and then have his way with me. My hand twitched towards my sword. He would find that a rather more difficult proposition than expected, if that was indeed the case.

We set off at a brisk pace. "To assure you my intentions are honourable," Paraben said, in response to my questioning look. "I'll see you right up to the doors of the theatre, and perhaps show you a few of the sights along the way."

I smiled, beginning (not fully) to trust. "That would be lovely."

But my mind was not on the ancient monuments and villas we passed. Paraben seemed to note this and fell into a companionable silence.

"You must care deeply for this player, to fly into an unknown land without aid to seek him," he said at last. "Are you perhaps… lovers?" Though he spoke in Dalmascan, he said the word with all its Rozarrian delicacy.

"We were," I said absently. "Now… I'm not sure." Still wary, I twisted to look at him. "Do you know Allantoin?" I had been careless – I'd not yet taken the time to take the measure of the man, to see if he was one Balthier would associate with.

"Not as well as I might like," Paraben replied with an easy smile, leading me to speculate about his sexual preferences. "He's a secretive man, is Allantoin. Hard to know what's going on up here." He tapped his temple. "Brilliant player, though. Absolutely genius. When you watch him, it's as if the world around melts away and you truly are looking at a suicidal prince. Almost makes you want to go off yourself."

I returned the smile uneasily. Nice to know that his personality hadn't changed. Though, had he truly wished to get undercover, it would have made sense to be less brooding.

…Brooding? What was I thinking? Balthier would never show so much emotion in public. I wondered why he was acting so out of character. He only seemed brooding to me because I knew what was underneath.

"You've known him long?" For a first, Paraben's voice was uncertain.

I had to consider. Gods, had it only been a year? "Yes, a very long time."

"We've arrived, _señora_," Paraben said gently. I gripped the rail of the cart tightly.

"I thank you, messire." I tried to offer him some gil for his service, but he refused.

"If it please you, _señora_, I will see you inside," Paraben replied.

"As you wish." I inclined my head. Whatever Paraben's interest in this was, I had more important things to think about.

Balthier was here.

We rushed into the theatre, flinging gil at the man who gave us tickets in return, and found our seats with moments to spare – I preferred it this way, as it was better than waiting. The curtain came up, and I found myself holding my breath.

And then I remembered. The main character did not appear for the entire first scene. It took quite a bit of willpower to keep myself from bouncing in my seat, waiting for the guards to quit standing around and ruminating on a ghost that none of them could understand anyway, though I clapped politely with the rest of the audience when the scene was done. In the second scene, I knew it was time for the main character's entrance, and when _he _appeared onstage, flanked by other characters, I couldn't help myself. I let out a small sound that was lost in the flourish of trumpets as the king prepared his speech. I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming, because the whole thing seemed so surreal; Balthier, alive, playing a player playing a prince on some foreign stage. He looked exactly the same as ever, but there was one thing different, a shifted _aura _that I couldn't place. Putting it down to the player's disposition needed to play such a moody character, I waited while the king meandered through his endless soliloquy, waiting with bated breath for the first line, because no heaven would be complete without the sound of his voice:

"_A little more than kin, and less than kind!_"

I clutched the armrests of my chair, to keep myself from barging onstage and spoiling the performance. His dulcet tones sent a wave of nostalgia through me and I found myself falling in love all over again. But that slight difference was made evident as Balthier continued to speak, and I could see what Paraben had been talking about: the speech the prince made was no speech. These were words from the soul of the player.

"_O that this too too sullied flesh would melt_

_Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew_

_Or that the Everlasting had not fixed_

_His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O Gods, Gods,_

_How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable_

_Seem to me all the uses of this world!_

_Fie on't, ah, fie, 'tis an unweeded garden _

_That grows to seed. Things rank and gross in nature_

_Possess it merely. That it should come to this…"_

As the speech continued into more story-specific information, I bit my lip, unable to look away. I had a sensation of being just in time for something, though for what, I did not know. It was an exceedingly angst-ridden speech for the Balthier that I knew, but I had trouble believing that the words were not meant for himself, and I was suddenly very concerned about getting to him as soon as possible after the play for a different reason than closing the space between us.

I continued to watch as the prince encountered the ghost of his father and resolved to put on an 'antic disposition'. This time, he was closer to the man I had known and loved: witty, resourceful, flippant… I had a hard time remembering that this play was about an Ordalian prince and not a showcase for Balthier's caustic tongue.

But with the arrival of the players within the play, the darker side emerged again, and with the prince's famous soliloquy I had my first real shock, rather than mere suspicion:

"_To be, or not to be: that is the question:_

_Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer_

_The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,_

_Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,_

_And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep – _

_No more – and by a sleep we say we end_

_The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks_

_That flesh is heir to! 'Tis a consummation_

_Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep – _

_To sleep, perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub,_

_For in that sleep of death what dreams may come_

_When we have shuffled off this mortal coil_

_Must give us pause. There's the respect_

_That makes calamity of so long life: _

_For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,_

_Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,_

_The pangs of despised love, the law's delay…"_

And it went on. I watched with a growing clarity of thought as the story progressed, and suspicion turned to certainty during the scene in which the prince and his one-time lover bantered while observing the play within the play. The tone in Balthier's voice was so familiar, so natural and accustomed to me, that while the other player was delivering her lines I felt irked, empty, needing to say the responses myself with my own inflection and expressions, finding the lover's all wrong. And that was when I knew that it was not merely a production for Balthier any more. And I was frightened for him.

My strongest reaction came at the end of everything, as I was forced to watch Balthier die, again, this time more intimately and nearer, however false I might know it to be. I just barely kept myself from crying out, as he took the poisoned wound and drank the poisoned cup. Though I knew it just a play, my subconscious burned. _I won't lose him again! I won't, I won't!_

It helped me realize something – I would be physically unable to allow Balthier out of my sight for some time. I couldn't imagine he would take kindly to that, but if he valued my sanity, he would have to abide by it. As it was, I had lines in my palms made by my nails from clenching my fists so tightly, and I bit my lip until it bled to keep from making a sound in the silent hall as I had to endure Balthier whispering "_The rest is silence."_

The final speech, a tribute by the foreign prince to the carnage now present on the stage, affected me most of all, because it had been what was in my head as I gazed on _Bahamut _all those days: what I might have found, had I gathered the courage to go there, and the regrets that I could not admit even to my unconscious mind, thus the numbness.

"_For he was likely, had he been put on,_

_To have proved most royal; and for his passage_

_The soldiers' music and the rite of war_

_Speak loudly for him. _

_Take up the bodies. Such a sight as this_

_Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss._

_Go, bid the soldiers shoot."_

The solemnity with which the players were shown off the stage and the astounded soundlessness of the audience at the incredible performance made it seem as though someone actually had died, there on the stage. I felt a sudden shock of worry for Balthier, caught up in the world created by the skill of the players. The curtain fell, and the theatre suddenly erupted in applause as everyone recovered from their trance. As all the players came up to take a bow, I was relieved to see Balthier there, still alive and well, though he did not smile, as the others did. There were several more curtain calls, and my hands hurt from clapping. I waited impatiently for the audience to begin to leave before I launched myself out into the aisle, pushing past the accustomed flow of the crowd; eyes trained on the door where I had seen Balthier disappear. My brain was in a fuzz, and I didn't have a real plan – as usual, I was reacting purely on the whims of my heart, and not thinking things through. But what I did know was that I had waited for four months to get this close to Balthier, and our continued separation was wrong – so wrong. I was also driven by the feeling that had accumulated throughout the production: that time was running out.

I shoved my way backstage, paying no heed to anyone's attempts to stop me – they were half-hearted attempts, and I figured I could deal with them later once I'd seen Balthier. Some people called out, and a few even whistled, but I didn't stop, searching every face for the one I sought. I wondered if Balthier was important enough to have a dressing room, and how I would find it.

Someone grabbed my wrist, and I spun, ready to fight my way free, but it was only Paraben. He jerked his head to the side, dragging me along with him down another hallway.

"This way, _señora_," he called over the general bustle, leading me down the hall. He pulled me to a stop outside a plain, unmarked door, knocking in a complicated pattern before falling back and allowing me to step forward. I gathered my nerve, suddenly self-conscious, and reached for the doorknob.

The door opened before I got there.

I stood there, dumbly, the background noise fading into incomprehensibility, staring like an idiot, with the real, living Balthier inches from my face. Abruptly, all the time I'd spent thinking he was dead seemed silly now. How could I have doubted him?

"Can you love a fool?" I gasped, the first words that came into my head and the first out of my mouth.

A shadow of the old smirk I'd loved so much crossed his face.

"Can you love a player?" he replied. I took a slow step forward, feeling terribly un-coordinated. I'd spent so much time concentrating on meeting Balthier, that I'd never thought of what I'd do when I actually _saw_ him. So it was that I acted purely on instinct.

I slapped him full across the face, with all the force I could muster. Into my palm I put the long, sleepless nights, the nightmares, the tears, the distress of the party, the hurt I'd given Basch, my near madness. And then I fell sobbing into his arms.

"I suppose you didn't deserve that one either, sir?" Paraben's voice came from far away. I couldn't concentrate on the words. My focus was on Balthier – he was my entire world. When his arms tightened around me, his embrace felt like a homecoming.

"No." Balthier's voice, low and close, made me shiver like a leaf in the wind. "No, that one I deserved."

*

He drew me inside, set me on a low couch, pushed a glass of mulled wine into my hands which he had produced from gods-knew where. I sipped tentatively, gazing at my love through tearstained eyes.

"Thank-you for bringing her, Paraben," Balthier said quietly. I blinked, unaware that the man had stayed.

"It was no trouble," my guide replied, somewhere behind me. "Is this she you've been moping over?" His tone was one of comfortable teasing. "It's an honour to meet you at last."

I turned to give him a tremulous smile.

"Oh, please," Balthier returned. "I have not been _moping_."

Paraben's responding chuckle was as refuting as spoken words. "I'm sure I've duties elsewhere," was all he said, leaving us alone. Balthier sighed.

I set the winecup down and reached for him, burying my face in his shirt, drinking in his scent, pulling his head down to mine with trembling hands. "You're real?" I said, half-asking, half-stating. The strangeness of my surroundings made it difficult for me to trust my own senses. "You're real."

"Yes," he assured me, arms around my shoulders. "Yes, I'm here."

"Oh gods!" I whispered, kissing every part of him I could reach. "I am glad. I am so very, very glad."

My handprint was forming, red and blatant, on his face. Apart from feeling very sorry, it gave me a sort of perverse pleasure to see I'd marked him so – as mine.

I stroked the imprint. "I'm sorry," I murmured. "Does it hurt very much?"

Balthier grimaced. "I cannot believe that you are apologizing to _me_," he said. "Why are you here?"

Fear washed over me. I'd been so focussed on Balthier being alive, I'd never even stopped to consider… Did he not want me around any more? And here I was, selfishly seeking his embrace. My need had been so great…

"Forgive me. I wasn't thinking," I replied, trying not to look as though every word was tearing off a piece of my soul. "Do you want me… to leave?" I would, I told myself, if he asked me to. It would kill me to do it, but I would try.

There was a moment of silence, and then Balthier took me by the shoulders and shook me, very gently. "A sigh escaped his lips. "You silly, silly girl," he said quietly. "What did you ever do to deserve this? I was merely referring to your safety… and the state of your sanity," he explained, before I could react. "Flying into this city on only a word… to find _me_." I didn't like the tone he put on his name. It made it sound _dirty_.

"Of course," I replied, frankly bewildered. "Once I found out where you were, I couldn't do anything else. And then I saw the play…" I trailed off, seeking his eyes, which were suddenly hidden. "Please tell me you're just a most convincing player. Tell me I didn't see what I thought I saw."

He did not reply, and I did not get any further before Balthier pulled me roughly into his arms.

"Fran sent a communiqué telling me how bad it was… with you," he said. "She told me you were coming." He sounded oddly breathless. "I couldn't believe it. I thought for sure I'd lost you…"

"I love you," I said, tears threatening again. "Compared to that, what's a little _actual _madness?"

His embrace tightened. "Can you believe, after everything I've done to you, that I love you, too?" he asked. I nodded mutely into his chest, the words crashing through me like stormwaters bringing life to a dried up stream bed. I _did _believe it. From it stemmed my ability to keep coming back to him, time and again, without so much as a second thought.

"You should have known," I told him seriously, "when you told me you loved me. If you couldn't get rid of me beforehand…" He laughed shortly, kissing the top of my head.

"But I have to ask," I continued, lifting my face to his, "why? You sent Paraben out to look for me." Now that I had seen them together, their connection was obvious. Paraben had been a scout. "Fran told me about the treasure you're hunting. But to not send a word – not a single, solitary note? To go off and leave me alone? Why – how could you do that? Is this some kind of test?"

"Maybe a little bit," he admitted ruefully. "Only after the fact," he hastened on as I stiffened. "Not because I doubted you. Not being able to see you, incapable of sending a message…" He squeezed my hand in his tightly. "It was torture for me, as well." And suddenly I understood the meaning of his portrayal of the prince. It twisted my heart in an oddly pleasant way to know that I'd been the driving force behind such a performance.

I returned the gesture, still lost in his eyes. "It's good to hear. But at least you had your hunting. You had Fran, you had your distractions. I had nothing. And I missed you. Gods, I can't tell you how much I missed you."

He held me tighter still, yet somehow it might never be enough. "You must be a glutton for punishment." His words made me realize something. My words had not been quite true. I'd had something. I'd had Basch. And look what had happened to me. Perhaps it was self-centered of me to think so, but could Balthier's distractions have been the same for him as Basch was for me? A boon companion and a goal, but only enough to keep one's grip on sanity? Could it be possible that my loss had affected him the same way his had me? He'd had reason, too, to think that I'd been lost to him, I saw now. If I hadn't been in Archades with Basch, if Fran hadn't managed to slip away and find me there… how would we ever have met again, with him unable to send word, and me still believing him to be dead?

I laughed tremulously, because if I didn't I would scream from the pain and terror of what might have been. "I suppose I've yet to learn my lesson."

His whisper in my ear was low and sensual. "I could always teach it to you."

The words were out of my mouth before my head caught up with them. "If you're feeling didactic, I can think of a better place for it."

He rose to meet me, kiss heating, heartbeat throbbing… I was suddenly unsure. I didn't know if I wanted him to push it further, and I couldn't decide what I would do if he did.

"No." The word was hardly a whisper, and it did not come from my lips. I simply stared up at him, relieved without knowing why.

Balthier raised his eyebrows. "Siyana," he said gently. "I told you. Fran had… stories. You've changed – I understand that. Don't force yourself to do anything you don't absolutely want."

I looked away. "Yes, well. It doesn't matter." Shaking my head, I forced myself to face his eyes, which had remained the same. This was not the Balthier I remembered. I wasn't the only one who'd changed. "I need time," I whispered – it was a terrible admission. "I think… Please." I suppose it was foolish to think that everything would be back to the way it had been.

"All right, then." He smiled when I glanced at him, shifting his arm so that it was no longer so intrusive. "Just don't keep me waiting forever."

"I won't." The words caught in my throat; I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen him smile, except in battle. "I promise. Ffamran…" I pressed my fingers to my aching temples, willing the too-ready tears to subside. What lay between us was too vast, too much. I felt a stranger in my own skin. There was love, still; that much, I knew. My heart ached at the sight of him. And Balthier… I heard it in his voice, saw it in his calm gaze, felt it in his touch. Love, broken and damaged, mayhap beyond repair. Some things, once broken, can never be made whole again.

I prayed we were not one of them.

"I'm sorry!" The anguished exclamation burst from my musings. I hadn't wanted our reunion to be anything less than perfect. Anything like… this.

He caught my hands in his, bringing them to his lips. "Don't be. I'm just glad you're here. The rest can wait."

I leaned into his touch, that I still wanted and needed, even if my sensibilities had changed somewhat. I read in his words what he left unsaid: he was unaccustomed to sleeping together without sex, but he was willing to try… for me. Was this his way of saying he was sorry?

If it was possible to love someone more than I loved him, I had yet to find it.

He stood. I felt the space between us like a physical pain and hurried to stand close to him again. He gave a wry smile, as if guessing my motives.

"Shall we?" he held out his arm as if to escort me.

We left through the same hall I'd entered, which was now nearly empty. Balthier called a carriage, giving some orders in Rozarrian, the only words of which I caught were 'Villa Recutita', before pulling me in behind him.

"Come here," Balthier whispered as the coach lurched into motion, and there was no order in it, but I slid, helpless and obedient, into his arms. He knew what I needed more than I did myself, and this was exactly right. Gods know I had been kissed by him before, but never like this. Everything in me surrendered to it, and I startled even myself by how completely I was undone. The garrotte that I had been slowly, but surely, applying to my feelings, was a graft that had been the only thing holding me up, dragging what little there was left of me thinner and thinner as I pressed onward – that part of me that I had been so carefully cutting off from life and yet forbidding to die – that part was finally freed. The backlash was violent. And then he kissed me again, until I could return it with no artistry, but mere craving, clinging to him and drowning under his mouth.

Until the coach stopped, shocking me with its suddenness. Balthier laughed as the driver opened the door onto the courtyard; I could not imagine that we had arrived so soon. He helped me out, face studiously averted – I cannot even begin to imagine what I looked like, glaze-eyed, tousled, and tear-stained in my travel-worn clothes – and Balthier stopped to pay him. Too far from him, I shivered with dismay until he joined me, and guided me, gently, into his home.

"This is a players' lodging house," he said. "There are a few other tenants, but they're very quiet and discreet. They're all out at the moment, probably at the curtain party. We'll have to think of a good story for your presence, but it should be easy enough – they aren't too nosy."

I leaned into his shoulder as he led me up the stairs, saying nothing, happy just to be close to him. He entered the room second from the end of the hall, and let us in to a well-apportioned, modestly decorated suite with a living area, bedroom, and kitchen complex.

"Allantoin's quite famous, as you may have observed," Balthier said, turning on a lamp as he moved about the room, "so I could afford to upgrade to this place. It's as well you found me now, and not a few weeks ago – the hovel we were living in before didn't bear mentioning."

He was trying to make light of the situation, and I smiled, but I preferred not to think about it, and Balthier understood.

Carrying the light, he turned to me. "After you," he said, indicating the bed.

I glanced about, abruptly bewildered. "Already? But it's morning?"

He shook his head, smiling. "You chased the sun on your flight here," he informed me. "Didn't you notice the sun setting as you arrived? The darkness outside the theatre?"

I blinked, frowning. I seemed to recall something of the sort… it had all been driven out of my mind.

His smile grew wider, and he placed my hand on his arm. "What am I going to do with you?" he asked. "You're a hopeless case."

I shrugged, grinning. "You're the one who's studied all that medicine. Surely you could suggest a cure?"

He brought my hand to his lips. His touch burned like fire, and his eyes smouldered. "I know just the thing."

Once we were in the room, too overwhelmed to move, I simply stood there. Balthier came up behind me, his arm resting lightly about my waist. It was enough. As much as I loved him, I couldn't have borne anything more. My need having been assuaged by the interlude in the carriage, I wasn't sure if I could even kiss him any more.

"It's going to take me a while," I said quietly.

"I know."

"I'm sorry," I said again. I wished I didn't feel broken inside.

"Siyana." He turned me gently to face him. "I know. You did what you had to do. I would that it had been otherwise, but I don't blame you for it." I knew then that Fran had told him about Basch, and I cringed, waiting and ready for the inevitable fury, the rejection.

"Then why do I feel so awful?" I whispered.

Balthier touched my hair, looking sober. "Do you… do you want to speak of it?"

"Of what happened?" I laid one hand on his chest, keeping him at bay, feeling his heart beating steady and strong beneath it. Tears came to my eyes unbidden. "Oh, Ffamran! Even if I did… could you bear to hear it?"

His answer, when it came, was rough and honest. "I don't know."

"So." I swallowed hard, nodding. "We'll wait and see." Somewhere, the gods were grimly satisfied. If, even a week ago, someone had come to me and told me that I would willingly refuse the chance to sleep with Balthier, I would have laughed in their face. But being with Basch had changed things, and I found that I couldn't be so callous as to immediately disregard our time together.

"You know," Balthier said, "you're still very foolish."

I said something in acquiescence, I don't know what. It was hard to concentrate with the heat of his presence so near. "If I was rational, I'd probably be far away by now."

"That would be logical," he conceded, tracing patterns on my hand that restrained him. I locked my fingers with his, drawing him nearer.

"But there's just a little problem with that," I mused, when I could think again. "I've been irrevocably in love with you since I first laid eyes on you."

His face, when I looked up, was almost severe with the depth of his emotion. "Yes, I suppose that would be troublesome," he said at last.

I smiled. "Now you see. This…" I gestured vaguely to our continued separation, "this is only a passing thing." _I hope_, I added silently.

His eyes had not yet lost their reverent look. "I love you."

I traced the shape of his face with the tips of my fingers. The touch of his skin was still a marvel to me. "I must, however, admit to curiosity," I murmured. His eyes widened in mock horror.

"Curiosity? Gods forbid!"

I placed my hands on either side of his face. "Was it only that one girl that made you… like that?" I had been wondering about that for a while, ever since he had admitted that his separation was partially a test. My voice was soothing, serious. Caring, not condemning.

His face sobered. "No, there were others. Never so bad, but enough. I'm not that fragile."

I nodded gravely. We each had our skeletons. "Will you tell me about them?"

He considered slowly. "But not now."

"No, not now."

I moved my palm from his cheek along his neck and down his chest, revelling in the contact, in the planes of his skin.

"Basch couldn't understand it, this pull you have on me," I said, feeling a twinge of guilt and gratitude as I said the name. "But he knew, in the end, that no matter what happened, no matter what anyone said or did, I would still feel the same way about you. And the truth is, he was right. Nothing's changed it, not time or distance or madness. I love you. I could look at you forever. And I do believe that for whatever unfathomable reasons, it is meant to be this way." I hesitated, a lifetime of insecurities surfacing. "Unless you feel differently?"

"No." He shook his head, then reached down and drew my head up to stroke my face. His touch made me shudder slightly, and whether it was with desire or despair, I could not say. "No. Never."

Ah, gods! It felt like a benediction. I wrapped my arms around him, drawing him closer. Even the half-inch of space between us suddenly became too great.

There is a point where joy becomes too great for words, when no form of communication is sufficient to describe the feelings inside. When you hold the other close enough as if to absorb them into yourself, and yet know that it will never be close enough. I reached that point that night. It is one thing to dream hopelessly every day of your life – it is another thing entirely when those dreams come true beyond your wildest dreams.

I loved him so much.

My falling asleep was a gradual thing, marked with sighs and caresses and gentle words. I slept and, for the first time in a long while, dreamed of joy.

* * *

Next up: vicarious fun with _Balthier and Sephira!_


	39. Acts

**Disclaimer: **I knew Fran didn't like disclaimers. I just didn't realize how much.

**A/N: **Thank-you for the wonderful reviews that I recieved for the previous chapter. I hope that everyone had a wonderful, safe, and happy holiday. We are approaching the one-year mark of this story's conception and creation! Without further ado, please enjoy chapter 39!

* * *

And when I woke in the morning, incredibly, he was still there, still in my arms. He wasn't looking at me like an annoyance. He was looking at me… like he loved me.

"Morning, love," he murmured. "How are you feeling?"

I grinned. Like I could sing, like I could soar… "Perfect. Absolutely wonderful." We shared a lingering embrace. The sun streaming in through the window played in his hair and across the slim lines of his muscular chest. "And you?" I remembered how hard that had been for him.

His smile was slow, sensuous, and started fires burning in interesting places. "Never better."

My body moved closer of its own accord. "D'you want to…"

He stroked the line of my neck. "Yes," he sighed, "but I – _Allantoin _has a rehearsal this morning." He gave a dry chuckle.

I traced patterns down his shoulder to his arm. "What is it?"

He laughed harder. "It's almost too ironic for words," he said with a wry grin. "The performance you saw last night was the finale, as you know. The next production the company I belong to will be doing is _Balthier and Sephira._"

I gasped with astonishment, clutching his hands with delight. "You don't mean it!" I exclaimed, laughing too. "Truly?"

He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, tender at my enthusiasm, and nodded. I sighed happily. "Oh, how I wish I could be there!"

"You could," Balthier said, outlining my lips with his finger. "Cast members often have their significant others watching on while they rehearse. I could say you're a dramatics student I met at university, come to see the inner workings of a company."

I smiled at the simplicity of the plan and wrapped my arms around him. "Perfect."

He nuzzled at my ear, nipping playfully, and I giggled, then stopped.

Balthier drew back, a confused look on his face. "What's the matter?"

I shook my head, gazing up at him, pulling him closer to press my face into his chest, inhaling his scent.

"What's brought this on?" His voice was concerned as he held me tighter. I willed the irrational tears away, reassuring myself with his solid presence. Somehow, that giggle, something that I would have been incapable of doing only a day ago, had brought back to me the terrible loneliness that I had endured, and I needed as much of his skin on mine as possible.

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to smile. "It's just…"

He rested his head on top of mine, with a heavy sigh. "No, I'm sorry." I grimaced where he couldn't see. How were we ever going to get past this when I kept springing reminders on him about how deeply I had been affected? My own instincts were working against me.

I planted a kiss in the hollow of his throat, snuggling into his warmth. "I just… love you. So much. Don't…" I cut myself off. Why couldn't I control myself? _Don't ever leave me again. _That's what I'd been about to say. What Balthier would have thought about that I didn't want to guess.

"Listen." Balthier lowered his head until his eyes were level with mine. "It's all right. I didn't expect it to be erased at once. I'm just frankly astonished that you saw fit to spend the night with me."

I traced the line of his brow. He understood a bit better now. "Now you're just flattering me."

He smiled, but did not answer, letting me massage his face. At last, he let out a prolonged breath, opening his eyes.

"I could get used to this," he said. I could, too. "Breakfast?" he asked. I nodded.

Over tea and scones, Balthier detailed more of the information that he and Fran had gathered. We planned and plotted. It was… fun. We held hands over the table, and it felt wonderful.

We did return to the room, however, in order to dress, and the presence of the large inviting bed was felt by us both. If I had not seen him naked, I would have sworn that there was nothing more beautiful than Balthier in his white linen shirt and leather breeches. For myself, Balthier had found me clothes in the Rozarrian style, blue, to bring out my eyes. The length of the skirt was disorienting.

I raised an eyebrow when he finished dressing. "What, no vest?"

His mouth quirked in a half-smile. "Too recognizable. Do you mind?"

I slid my arms around him, breathing in his heady scent.

"No. It's just fewer clothes to take off at the end of the day," I said.

He groaned quietly, twining his fingers in my hair. "Now I'm going to be thinking about that all day, instead of the play."

I grinned, feeling quite devious. "I'm glad, since I'm going to be tormented by the thought for just as long." _And you haven't spent the past four months believing me to be dead, _I thought, but did not say it. I had already forgiven him. If there was no way to forget my overwhelming pain, I at least would not willingly bring it up. But by the way his smile hardened and his arms tightened around me, Balthier knew what I left unsaid.

"Where's Fran?" I asked, noting her continued absence only when we stepped out the door, with a guilty twinge. Everything just seemed pushed to the side when I was with Balthier.

Balthier sighed – it was a sad sound that awoke loneliness in my heart, such that I clutched him closer. "Gone," he said. "She got me what I needed, but she told me I'd have to do this without her for a while. She's gone to visit her sisters in the Border-woods. She was upset because of what the treasure had done to us… to you."

I looked away, feeling the guilt overwhelm me. I had separated Balthier and Fran.

"Hey." Balthier's voice was caring, such that I involuntarily looked back to his face. "She was right. I've made a real mess of things. It's my fault and no-one else's. Besides, I need to focus on the play."

"I'm sorry," I said, unconvinced. He slid his arm around my shoulders. "Don't worry about it."

But no matter what he said, I still felt terrible, and it subverted my mood as we entered the theatre. In the full light of day, some of the mystique had gone and the stage was now a mere wooden platform, covered with bits of unfinished set and people walking about half-costumed. Glancing at Balthier, I saw that, simply in his own clothes, he was perfectly attired for his role.

A tall man with the fashionable Rozarrian goatee and shrewd grey eyes stepped up to us, examining me carefully before his face broke into a smile.

"Ah." A world of implication was contained in that one syllable. Balthier raised an eyebrow, daring continuation. The man took his chances.

"Everyone was wondering why our star was not present at the curtain party." The Rozarrian accent was thick and heavy with suggestion. "Now the reason comes to light." He made a courtly bow. "A most lovely distraction, if I may say."

Balthier took the initiative, perhaps to forestall further compliments. "Eleucario Scizarra, this is…" The slightest of pauses – we had not decided on a name for me, and Sephira would have been too obvious, "Amarante. Amarante, this is the director."

Scizarra gave another bow, this time kissing my hand in the bargain. "A very great pleasure. You are, I take it, an aficionado of the works of this masterful playwright?"

I curtsied in my newfound skirts, feeling distinctly out of place. "I am, _señor _Scizarra, and I humbly beg your leave to observe the rehearsal." _Two can play at that game,_ I thought. Balthier glanced at me. Scizarra, however, was unfazed.

"Call me Lucario, please," he said. "And of course you may stay. You have brought an enchanting companion, Allantoin – or should I say _Balthier_?" I remembered at the last instant that it was also the name of his character and refrained from panicking. "But we must begin work. Such legendary plays may have lasted for a hundred years, but we, I fear, cannot. Come." He departed, but I held Balthier's hand an instant longer. He turned back to me curiously. "Amarante?" I asked. He shrugged, eyes hooded. "It was my mother's name. You don't mind?"

I squeezed his hand, astonishment on my face. "I'm honoured. Good luck."

He nodded and went to join the cast.

The first scene went fairly smoothly, but was a little flat, since all the players were reading off scripts. I laughed at the puns, and waited with a delicious kind of impatience for Balthier (both of them) to enter. When he did so, lurking at the back, I felt a veritable shift in my world. It felt so _right _for him to be there.

Balthier held no script. Like me, he had memorized the play long ago, by virtue of constant reading and loving association.

"_Good morrow, cousin."_

"_Is the day so young?"_

"_But new struck nine."_

"_Ay me! Sad hours seem long."_

"_What sadness lengthens Balthier's hours?"_

"_Not having that which, having, makes them short."_

"_In love?"_

"_Out-"_

"_Of love?"_

"_Out of her favour where I am in love." _It sounded so authentic, I wanted to call out: "_You will always be in my favour!" _But something was off.

Scizarra cut the scene short. "That's very good," he said, "but I'm not convinced. Try it again."

They did so, but before they started, Balthier shot me an almost apologetic look which I did not immediately understand.

This time, the scene was stellar. The improvement was so perceptible, even I felt it. Balthier's words were charged with a very different emotion. It was in fact a different person, up there on the stage. I didn't think it was me he thought of, any more.

"_Where I may read who passed that passing fair?"_

_Farewell. Thou canst not teach me to forget."_

The irony was dripping from his words – or perhaps that was just me. The scene continued, and Scizarra began to get nitpicky about inflection and actions and the progress lagged. I wished I had Balthier beside me, but he was seated casually on the stairs to the stage, engrossed in the proceedings – I didn't want to disturb him.

I got a shock when I saw the player chosen to be Sephira. I supposed I would feel dubiously inclined towards anyone playing this most sacred of characters to me, but there was something wrong about her, having nothing to do with my bias.

This time, Balthier caught my eye, and we shared a brief glance that was loaded with meaning. This was _our _story. By rights, I should be on that stage; we should be sharing our passion with the world.

In all fairness, Sephira was not a poor player. Nonetheless, I found myself enduring her scene, rather than enjoying it. In the next scene, though, I got a surprise. Balthier returned with a few others, but at his side was Paraben, his best friend and third party, uninvolved in the feud between the families.

"_O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you…"_

I watched with delight as Paraben monologued, becoming more and more agitated as his words, nonsensical to begin with, became more so. He, too, had the speech mostly memorized, and I thoroughly enjoyed his performance. Even Scizarra had little to criticize about it.

But then came the next scene, and I cringed. I would have to watch Balthier meet a Sephira that was not me.

"_O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!_

_It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night…"_

They got through the scene, and it wasn't bad – I could see the potential for passion there, but when I compared it to the times when Balthier and I had quoted lines to each other, it paled to a waif.

Scizarra spent an entire half hour between the two, and I daresay he would have taken longer, but it was afternoon and the rehearsal was over.

Balthier came to me amid the chaos of clearing away.

"Time for dinner," he said. He sounded tired from the long rehearsal. "I know a great little place."

I slipped my arm through his and let him lead me. He took me to a tiny café a few streets away. We walked in silence – I had divined his desire for quiet.

As we sat at a table and ordered, he looked at me and smiled, as though coming out of some deep thought.

"Well, what did you think?"

"You've found yourself a wonderful company," I said honestly. "Scizarra knows his work well. Paraben was perfect, and the others will do well once they know their lines. But Sephira…" My voice trailed off.

"Ceteary? She's fabulous – you saw her last night as the Prince's erstwhile lover."

I pursed my lips in thought. "Yes, and she suited that role quite well. But Sephira's a determined, strong character…"

"Like someone else I know," Balthier said, taking my hand across the table. Our food arrived, but Balthier did not release it, as I had expected him to.

"I'm not convinced she can pull it off entirely," I said, stroking his hand. I frowned. "I'd like to think that it's just my biased opinion, but…" My voice trailed off. I could suddenly put my finger on the trouble with Ceteary.

"She's pregnant," I said, half-laughing.

Balthier blinked. "Truly? How can you be sure?"

"A woman's intuition," I replied, not quite joking. "I saw it often at the House. Sometimes servants would form liaisons with longtime patrons and candles would be lit to open their wombs. We learned how to recognize the signs early – she'll start showing in a week or two."

Balthier sat silent for a moment. "We can't have a pregnant Sephira. What will Ceteary do? Does she know?"

"She must," I said. "I suppose she wanted to be absolutely sure, but she's suspected for a while now, certainly."

"Will she tell him, do you think?"

Balthier asking for my advice and opinions was an odd experience. "She will, if she's at all responsible. As you said, a pregnant Sephira just won't work." _Pregnant._ The word was a loaded one for me, suggesting joy and fear alike. I felt palpitations at the thought of bringing another human being into the world, and they were not entirely unpleasant. I was nowhere near ready, but still… the thought of a tiny mixture of Balthier's features and mine calling me _mother_ both terrified me and filled me with a suffusing tenderness. Basch's words echoed in my mind. _'I would, someday.'_

"What is it?" Balthier asked, setting down his fork. I shook my head helplessly. I didn't want to keep secrets. I wanted back what we'd had before _Bahamut_ – that nearly telepathic connection.

"Basch… he told me that someday he'd light a candle in my name." I watched as his expression became withdrawn.

"And did you want that?" he interjected before I continued, his voice carefully neutral.

I studied the grain of the tabletop. "No… and yes." When he remained silent, I hurried on. "Don't worry, I know you don't want to. It's just… got me thinking, is all. It would never work." I'd never met a couple more unsuited to parenthood – even my own. A child would certainly tie me down, and Balthier would feel obliged to stay with us, hating every minute of it.

He sighed, taking a long swig of ale. "It's not just that, Siyana. We are decidedly lacking in role models, and if anyone started calling me 'father'…" He shook his head. "I wouldn't be able to handle it."

I nodded. "I understand. I'm not ready to be a 'mother' yet, either." I gestured to the two of us. "This is more than enough." My pain was still fresh, and I was still recovering from it, so as to make me overwhelmingly grateful for what I had.

The withdrawn expression faded. "Yes," he agreed.

We finished the rest of the meal at a leisurely pace, and afterward went for a walk, Balthier touring me around Dimethicone's numerous pleasure gardens. Allantoin might have been famous, but he was not so well known as to be recognizable in a crowd. There was something luxuriant in being able to walk in each other's company, hand in hand, without having anywhere to be or go, totally alone, with no one who knew or cared who we were or where we came from. I looked at Balthier's face, and saw that profound knowledge mirrored in his eyes, and his expression was calmly radiant. I realized then that I had never seen him perfectly at ease, and something knotted deep inside me began to loosen, something I hadn't known was tight.

And yet, I still couldn't make love to him.

Still, I was happy, happier than I could ever remember being. When I woke, for once, Balthier wasn't, and I lay in the warm brightness, feeling my breaths sync with his, and time stood still.

This was the first time I had felt completely relaxed and natural in his presence, and I relished it, secure in the knowledge of his body beside me, without having to look. I did anyway, after a while, just for the sight of his face (no longer turned towards the pillows) unguarded at last and peaceful.

_Ffamran, _I thought, the word repeating in my thoughts with my breaths like a litany. The name was a blessing, a bringer of joy. Somehow after finding each new thing to love, my heart kept expanding to contain them, and I was frankly surprised it did not collapse under the weight. Thinking back on how much I'd thought I loved him at the beginning, I smiled to think on how shallow and flimsy those feelings had in truth been, compared with what I was feeling now.

Eventually, he stirred. I was sitting up with a sheet wrapped loosely around me, skimming a copy of _Balthier and Sephira _that I'd found out on the table. I pretended not to notice, reading for a while longer in order to feel his eyes on me.

"You should be properly attired," he said at last. I looked up at him, startled out of my little game.

"I'm not going to go out like _this_," I told him incredulously. "I have my own clothes, and the gown you found for me…" A smile coloured my voice as I spoke. I liked that gown. It had awakened in me a previously unknown enjoyment of pretty things.

The look he gave me was vaguely impatient. "Have you ever had a gown of your own?"

I shook my head mutely, unsure of where he was going. I couldn't see how the question was relevant.

He nodded, briefly, as though an assumption had been confirmed. Throwing back the sheets, he went to the closet.

"Get dressed," he ordered. "We don't have much time."

I obeyed without thinking. "Where are we going?

He spared hardly a glance for me before pulling me out the door. "Shopping."

The words didn't fully register until we were out on the busy street.

"Shopping?" I didn't often use the term. "What for?" We were well-stocked on groceries, so it couldn't be that. The chemise he had bought me from Eleonor was long since lost, but I had not been idle, that day I had paid a visit to her shop. Granted, the piece I had chosen couldn't have been as perfect as the first, and it had been bought with Basch in mind, but somehow I knew that Balthier was not in the market for lingerie. "If you don't like the chemise…"

Balthier, who had been steadily pulling me along, dragged me to a stop, turning on me with irritability.

"It's not about the chemise, Siyana!" He shook his head sharply, letting out a harsh sigh. The only other time I'd seen him so upset was the night I'd discovered I was good enough. My confusion and fear at this sudden change of mood must have shown on my face, for he took a deep breath and drew me down an alley.

"What is the matter?" I asked faintly, unsure of my footing. Had the game shifted again? I was too befuddled to tell.

His hand was on mine, warming it, his grip tight enough to bring a blush to my cheeks. "Is the concept of others doing things for you truly so abhorrent, Siyana?"

My first thought was of Basch – how many things had he done for me, and how had I repaid him? I selfishly hoped he had found happiness with Ashe – it would have been my one good deed. My second thought was one of denial.

"You mean… we're shopping for me?" I shook my head instinctively.

His grip tightened further, daring me to resist. "Yes. If the thought is distasteful to you…"

"It's unnecessary!" I burst out. My father had been a spendthrift, and after my experience in House Flamenca, owning nothing, scrupulously scrounging for every gil, I could not abide the thought of pointless buying. Then there was Balthier, who from the first had been inclined to throw outrageous amounts at me for no discernable reason. A few small things, I could accept. I understood that they were customary. But a whole new gown, when I already had more garments than I could remember owning!

Balthier raised an eyebrow, bowing his head slightly. His mood seemed to have recovered. "I know. That's the point."

"But why?" I studied my feet. "You can't have all _that_ much to begin with! And you have rent to think of, and…"

He silenced me. "First of all, because I rather enjoy spending money on you, my dear. Though, to be completely honest, it's that way with all pretty girls I meet. And it's not completely selfless, if you must know. I like to keep things interesting for myself as well, and that means a new outfit now and then. Understood?"

I nodded – this was rational.

"However," Balthier's voice was very quiet, his face inches from mine, "in my quest for honesty…" here he smirked a little, "I will admit that I feel just slightly different about you. I have been rather remiss in my duties as a gentleman and as your lover, and I would like to settle that score now. Far too little has been done for you, my sweet, and too little of even that by me."

A protest rose to my lips at once. "You gave me my freedom. That's enough for me. You don't have to do anything more."

"Exactly." He seemed pleased that I was following. "Which is why these are called _gifts_. The first was necessary. These are extras."

I could not resist one more argument. "But the gil…"

"Ah, yes." His gaze turned thoughtful. "Well, I hope you do remember that I _am_ a sky pirate, however grounded I may be at the moment, but I think you'll find I've not completely lost my skills." He returned my purse to me. I'd never even noticed it was missing – and I'd been trained to notice such things.

"This proves nothing!" I stammered, embarrassed as I snatched the purse back. I resisted the urge to check the amount. "You dazzle me."

His self-satisfied smile did nothing to cool the heat in my cheeks – and other places. "As I do others. The leading man simply cannot run out of money – it would be unseemly. Besides, I have other sources of funds."

I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You're saying you can just walk up to a factor and claim to be heir to the Bunansa fortune, with the price on your head?"

He didn't even wince when I said 'Bunansa'. "Not any more, thanks to our dear Queen. All it requires is a fancy collar and a letter. But I prefer not to have to stoop to that, if at all possible." He shook his head. I vaguely found it amusing that he considered using his own fortune 'stooping', when he would much rather pick other pockets. "Now, if we could refrain from talking money? When not in connection to relieving someone of it, I find the subject rather crass. I'm giving you the chance to decline now, if you wish." His eyes dared me, daunted me… how could I refuse, where I had never been able to before? And how could I deny that I did so want to be pampered?

I nodded slowly. "Thank-you."

He bowed fractionally. "At last, a sensible response! I should hope that I will not have this kind of a scene every time I wish to splurge on you."

A sound of despair escaped me. "More?"

"Well, we could start with the things you want, and go from there. Did I incorrectly interpret that you liked the gown?"

I shook my head, trying to quell the instinct ingrained in me that forbade extravagance, instead allowing myself to imagine walking on Balthier's arm in a gorgeous new gown.

"Well, and would you like another? One that is not borrowed and second-hand?"

I smiled tremulously. "Yes. Yes, Ffamran. I'd like that very much."

He shook me by the shoulders, very gently. "Then what was all the fuss about, hm? Now, we are going to step into the couturiere's, you are going to look at their wares, and then tell me which one you like the most, and I will buy it for you. Is this satisfactory?"

I nodded, and he drew me out of the alleyway.

"Just one thing," I murmured as we found ourselves once again amid the bustle of the marketplace.

"What's that?" His voice was light as he navigated us through the crowd with ease.

"Try not to make this a regular occurrence for me," I begged. "I'm… I'm afraid of getting spoiled."

He let out a bark of laughter. "Siyana, I do believe that you are one of the few people in the world in absolutely no danger of becoming spoiled – even by me."

We reached the shop – Balthier holding the door open for me as we entered – the door closing behind us shut out the outside noise, and I felt immediately out of my element. The lingerie I could understand perfectly, but this was completely different. The air had a pleasing aroma, though – the soft, fresh smell of satin and velvet relaxed me slightly. A smile spread unnoticed across my face. Everything was so _pretty_!

Because this was Rozarria, there were several other people in the store (gowns being the fashion for the season), and we were not immediately noticed as we slid in among the swathes of fabric. Balthier examined the designs with a critical eye and I watched him, fascinated. Weren't men supposed to hate shopping? He noticed me staring, and with a simple shift of an eyebrow reminded me why we were here. I quickly turned to the rows of dresses, reddening.

There were so many pieces, of every cut and colour imaginable. I felt quite overwhelmed – it was going to be very difficult to find something meaningful in all this.

Balthier made suggestions, but all decisions were ultimately up to me. He informed me, however, that I was to choose _two_ dresses, one for everyday wear to supplement my wardrobe, and a fine one to wear in the evening. I swallowed my immediate reaction at the thought of such extravagance, instead finally making my selection – one of brown and gold with sleeves embroidered in a criss-crossing pattern, showing the different shade of fabric underneath, a laced bodice, and a satin overdress. The formal one was made of black silk, the material stopping at the bodice and three-quarters of the way up my arm, giving way to a transparent mesh of silver over the shoulders. I had watched Balthier's face very carefully as I examined the dresses, and these were the ones on which his eyes had lingered the most, so I was sure they were the ones he preferred.

The ordeal was over; we were out of the shop (the dresses were to be sent to our address), and on our way to the afternoon rehearsal.

We arrived slightly early, and found the hall in an uproar. Scizarra was pacing back and forth, and stage hands were rushing around anxiously, in and out of the theatre. Spotting us, Scizarra waded through the chaos. Balthier and I exchanged a glance.

"Allantoin!" The director's voice was taut. "We have a problem. Ceteary just left. She's pregnant, and wants to spend the rest of her term at home with her family. I've been trying to find someone free who knows the part well enough not to hold us up in rehearsal, but I can't find anyone who's not retired!"

Balthier turned to me and gave me a long, slow look. I smiled.

"How now? Who calls? I am here. What is your will?"

Scizarra was sufficiently distracted that my words did not immediately register. Then he looked at me, astonished.

"Do you know it?"

I met his eyes. "Every word."

He turned and barked a command at the stage hands, who scurried away. He indicated the now-cleared stage. "Show me."

I shot a sideways appeal at Balthier, who nodded. We mounted the stage. Being there, for me, was a strange and electrifying experience. The soles of my feet seemed super-sensitive, and my heart beat faster. The scene we should play was so obvious, we didn't have to discuss it. I took a deep breath to steady myself and indicated to Balthier that he should begin. He moved behind me, taking my hand in such a swift motion that I let out an involuntary gasp.

"_If I profane with my unworthiest hand,_" he murmured, close enough to my ear to make my hair stand on end, "_this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this; my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, to smooth that rough touch with a gentle kiss._" His breath brushed the back of my hand, and I forgot that I was in a Rozarrian theatre, being watched on a stage by a foreign director, and the words came as naturally as if we were together in bed. I could not keep a smile from my voice.

"_Good pilgrim, you doth wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch-_" here I turned and shifted our hands so that they were pressed together between us, my words slightly unsure – would he be expecting this? – but teasing, unable quite to meet his eyes in case I got a mind blank, "_and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss._"

Balthier was intense, unwilling to be put off. "_Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?_"

I kept my tone light and deliberately obtuse, otherwise I was afraid I would be swallowed in his intensity. "_Aye, pilgrim,_" I replied, "_lips that they must use in prayer._"

His response was swift, sensing his advantage. "_O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do._" He leaned in closer, tantalizing me with his scent. "_They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair._"

I shook my head, trying to break the spell. "_Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake._"

"_Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take._" I trembled, caught between desire so intense it was almost pain and a damnable uncertainty. Balthier's eyes gauged my reaction for a moment before deliberately and carefully pressing his lips to the very corner of mine. I staggered slightly, overwhelmed and off-balance, and he steadied me before continuing. "_Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged._" His expression told me it was not mere lines he was reciting. As it he still considered himself unforgiven. _You know I love you, _I wanted to tell him, _I just need some time._ But convincing him was not the problem – he just thought it was his fault. And the one way I could disabuse him of this notion was the one thing I couldn't bring myself to do.

My voice was tremulous as I spoke again. "_Then have my lips the sin that they have took._"

His expression changed to one of subtle triumph.

"_Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again._" The same kiss, a little harder this time, and I found it hard to focus.

"_You kiss by th' book._" I let out the words in a sigh of despair and longing. Had I ever told him how well he kissed? I couldn't remember.

The rest of the cast had arrived during the scene, and I realized now that they were gathered around the stage in silence, staring. Scizarra turned to them and cleared his throat before speaking.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have our Sephira."

Those assembled burst into cheers and applause, and then nothing would do but I was introduced to everyone in a whirlwind of names and congratulations while I tried to remember that my name was Amarante. Through it all, Balthier stood apart, his expression unreadable.

The scenes Scizarra had planned to rehearse did not involve Sephira, so I sat in the aisle and watched the others, more comfortable now in their roles, while I meditated on the nature of life, and love, and guilt.

I couldn't very well tell Balthier that Basch was behind my unwillingness – no matter how forgiving he was feeling, it would certainly stretch the boundaries of it – but the truth was, it was only a part. I loved him still, yet there was something inside me that instinctively pushed him away; perhaps a deep-seated reaction to soften any further pain.

To my delight, the scene was one between Balthier and Paraben, the morning after the former meets Sephira. The lines were flying fast, and the repartee was highly entertaining.

"_Nay, if our wits run the wild-goose chase,"_ Paraben said, "_I am done, for thou hast more of the wild goose in one of thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five. Was I with you there for the goose?_" He merely meant to ask if he had scored a point in calling him a goose, but Balthier turned it on him.

"_Thou wast never with me for anything when thou wast not with me for the goose._" Here he not only implied behaving like a goose, but also looking for a prostitute. Paraben laughed.

"_I will bite thee by the ear for that jest._"

Balthier parried. "_Nay, good goose, bite not._"

"_Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce."_ No doubt he meant a "biting" retort, but Balthier once again took the other meaning.

"_And is it not, then, well served in to a sweet goose?_"

Paraben snorted. "_O, here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad!_" Balthier shrugged.

"_I stretch it out for that word "broad", which, added to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose!"_ Broad also having the meaning of wanton, it tied up the whole exchange, and Paraben was left with nothing more to say. He let out a roar of laughter, clapping Balthier on the shoulder.

"_Why, is not this better now than groaning for love? Now art thou sociable, now art thou Balthier; now art thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature."_

I was forced to agree.

On the carriage ride home, Balthier tentatively slid his arm around my shoulders. I could have wept.

"I love you," I told him. "I may not be the greatest at showing it right now, but it's true."

"I believe you," he said, holding me tighter, "otherwise you wouldn't be here." He paused. "But I'd be willing to wager it's not all in response to Basch."

I flinched – he steadied me with his other hand. "It's understandable, Siyana, that's all I'm saying. But the war is over. Nothing is going to happen. You're safe." And when he said it I knew he didn't mean my body.

I allowed myself to be comforted by his words, but he had broken promises like that to me before.

* * *

**A/N: **Next up: the effects.


	40. Trust Me

**Disclaimer: **Stop that fool disclaimer on the _Alexander_ for me, would you?

**A/N: **This chapter marks the 1 year anniversary of Good Enough!! *cheers* Cookies all around! I can't believe I've been working on this story for over a year! It seems like no time at all. Thanks to every one of my readers for sticking with me through this! Sprint to the finish!

* * *

This sequence of events quickly became routine. Scizarra's directing style was to shake things up and do the scenes at the end at the beginning, so that they would seem just as natural. Most of Sephira's scenes were with others, as were Balthier's – not to mention that after having seen my "audition", Scizarra seemed not to require any further scenes between us, at least not for the time being.

I must have watched Balthier in dozens of scenes, portraying agony, cleverness, elation, passion…

But we owe our respite to one scene in particular.

Just after the battle between Paraben and Sephira's cousin where Balthier slays him (for this, he is banished by the Prince), Balthier goes to pieces in the friar's cell.

As I watched him, line after line, creating magic with the simple tools of his voice and his motions, those things which had drawn me to him in the first place, I could really have been in that ancient city where the scene was laid. Balthier floundered, anguished, on the stage, shouting out words of melodrama that the self-respecting Ffamran would never say – yet it was completely genuine.

"'_Tis torture and not mercy,_" he cried. "_Heaven is here, where Sephira lives, and every cat and dog and little mouse, every unworthy thing, live here in heaven and may look on her, but Balthier may not. Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife, no sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, but "banishèd" to kill me?_"

I bit my lip. I had long since learned that what made Balthier such a consummate player was his ability to take a single moment of emotion from his heart and magnify it to many times its size in order to get the desired effect. And I could read into these lines easily enough. With each sentence his torment grew greater, until the priest could scarce contain it. I looked on helplessly, smiling despite the seriousness of the scene because of the hidden juxtaposition it presented me.

And somewhere in the midst of it all, my heart swelled to aching with love.

The rehearsal was over; we departed to Scizarra's call "get some rest tomorrow, take the day off". As we walked out to the carriage, I felt strange in my own skin, sensitive to every breath of air, my heart beating too fast with uncertainty.

And aching, still.

Balthier raised an eyebrow. "So. What did you think?"

I opened my mouth two brief times, gave up, grabbed his hair and kissed him.

For a moment, I think, he was too startled to react, and then – gods! His arms came hard around me and he returned my kiss, hard, hands sliding along my back, following the path of my mark. It was like igniting a sacred fire. There was more force, more gladness in his lips than I could ever remember. This kiss wasn't for me – it was for him.

We parted breathless and staring at one another.

"I think," I said unsteadily, "you should play that scene more often."

"I think I will," Balthier said, sounding bemused. And then I kissed him again, and again, and again, for all the times I couldn't before, until I was fair overflowing with sweetness, and Balthier was the one receiving, rather than giving.

If there had been time, I would have come on to him in the carriage. As it was, I covered him with my body, smothering him with kisses, as he had so often smothered me, chuckling slightly every time the road jolted us sideways.

"I _need_ you," I whispered fervently. I couldn't wait another minute.

His eyes were dark. "Still?"

I nodded, feeling a yearning pull me closer to him. "More than ever."

He swept me out of the carriage, his gaze turning calculating. "Prove it."

I smiled, feeling wanton. A day off tomorrow? I would prove it, and more.

We went up the stairs, Balthier with his arm around me in what might seem to outsiders to be a casual gesture, except he was stroking my breasts, making me twitch.

In a fateful replay of previous trysts, we didn't make it to the bedroom. We didn't even make it past the front door of our suite. As soon as it closed behind us, his head bent down to mine, and I put my arms around his neck to kiss him.

That kiss, I cannot describe.

It was like a poem, a prayer, a homecoming unlooked-for. It was like dungeon walls crumbling to reveal a glimpse of sky. It shook me to the roots of my soul.

All I could do was cling to him and gasp.

I relearned him that day, with hands and mouth and tongue, tracing the line of his collarbone, the flat planes of his chest, like a blind woman learning sight by touch. Mostly, though, I yielded, and relearned love.

With infinite gentleness, Balthier undid the buttons of my gown. What flesh he unveiled, he touched, until I shivered, the tenderness of it nearly unbearable. When he kissed my closed eyelids, I could have wept. He undid my hair, that I wore at the nape of my neck. When his hands rose, slowly, to cup my breasts, I sighed; I whimpered at the touch of his mouth, warm and soft, encompassing my aching nipples.

He lifted me out of the billowing folds of my gown, setting me so that I was free of their confinement and spread my pliant thighs. He parted my moist nether-lips with a touch delicate as a breath, the tip of his tongue tracing the swollen shape of my pearl. And that was where time itself seemed to stretch and flow. I lay open in the bright sun of the entrance hall, and every unkindness done me was undone, every cruelty, every fear, every agony – undone, undone, undone, every kiss, every lick, every stroke, imprinting love upon my flesh, until I shuddered and knotted both hands in Balthier's hair, calling his name out loud, and my climax followed with the inevitability of spring-fed waters tumbling over the rocks.

At that, Balthier lifted his head and smiled.

I clung to him because my life depended on it, making small noises I had never made before. Balthier took my face in his hands and kissed me, deep and devouring. I could taste myself on his tongue. He pressed harder against me and I felt myself shudder. If I could have crawled down his throat, I would have. And ah, gods! It was so, so good.

He rolled on top of me, still kissing. I tugged impatiently at the laces of his breeches – my skills had deserted me in the roaring fire I was undergoing now. He kicked off his boots; shimmied out of the breeches. He rolled down my stockings, kissed the arches of my feet, then worked his way upward.

I could take it no longer. I cried aloud, hips bucking. "Please!" I gasped, all reason abandoned. "Inside me, all of you! Please!"

He crawled up the length of my body. He was heavy, and the floor was hard and cold. I couldn't have cared a whit less. Nothing mattered but accepting his rigid, swollen phallus within my tight, wet heat, hard and deep. I bit my lip, reaching down to fit him into me, the walls of my nether parts still throbbing. Any other man – and one I have known – would have begun, then.

Not Balthier. He waited, his brow touching mine, sheathed to the hilt in me and our loins enjoined. Slowly, my breathing eased to match his, and our heartbeats synchronized.

In the space between the beating of our hearts, I felt the presence of Love – pure, untainted love.

I felt it as if for the first time, that golden light filling me, the taste of honey in my mouth. Balthier's mouth tasted like honey to me, his tongue like nectar as we kissed. The world pulsed and surged as he moved within me, and I moved to meet him, hips thrusting, no longer certain where I began and he ended, my fingers seeking the line of his back, the column of his spine, his muscled flanks. His eyes, warm and bottomless, looked into mine, shining with Love's tide.

This is how we were made whole.

"Why do we fit so well together?" I could not have said which of us spoke.

Guilt and desire and yearning merged into one aching need.

I locked my heels behind his buttocks. He growled, shoving my thighs wider. Fitting himself deeper. My hips rocked upwards to meet his thrust, digging my nails into his back. Over and over, he drove into me, and I drowned under the wave of desire. Everything I'd wanted, everything I'd been denied. I bit his shoulder to stifle my cries, sucking at his flesh.

I wanted more and more and more, and all that I wanted, Balthier gave. He was a bright mirror and a dark one all at once, reflecting all of me, good and bad. We reflected one another. We fit.

It drove away the horror. It kept the memories at bay.

It was a promise of absolution.

I cried out, at the end, and what it was – Balthier or Love – I could not say. It was one and the same, then. And if I had called what had gone before a climax, it was as naught to what came after, welling from someplace deeper within me than I knew I had, until I could only cling to Balthier with all my limbs and shudder at the force of it. He rode it hard, pushing me, pushing himself, until he could ride it no longer. And he – gods! He went rigid against me, within me, and I felt the vibration all the length of his spine before his loins shivered and he spent himself within me in one glorious, long spasm of white-hot pleasure.

So it was done.

"I'm sorry," he said when we had finished, and the presence faded. "Siyana, I am so, so sorry for what I've done to us."

"For what, love?" I asked. "You did what you were called to do. So did I. What is there to forgive? You know," I said softly. "You heard… stories. They are true."

"Yes." He drew a line from the corner of my left eye. "Do you wish to speak of them? I swear to you, I can bear it now."

Remembering, I shook my head. "No. Let them fade, and be forgotten. No."

"Then it is what it is," Balthier said. "And we are what we are. No more and no less." He smiled. "Never less. Do you agree?"

I did. I demonstrated to him with some degree of ferocity the extent to which I agreed, until he caught his breath and laughed, and then until he laughed no longer, but tumbled me over with keen desire. And if the presence of Love was no longer with us, our own presence sufficed.

I asked nothing more.

For once, it was enough.

I freed one hand to stroke his face. He gazed into my eyes as I stared into his, soft and satiated now. His forgotten shirt and usually pristine hair were in disarray. I moved my head to kiss his lips, filled with an infinite tenderness.

"There," I whispered. "Proof enough for you?"

He propped himself somewhat more conventionally on his elbows, regarding me. "I'm convinced."

"Already?" I smiled softly with memory, words from seeming ages in the past echoing. "You have a day off tomorrow, do you not?"

"Mmm." His lips vibrated against my breasts, making it difficult to remember the second part of my sentence.

"Well, I have a little promise I've been waiting to keep for quite some time," I told him.

He gave me a look worthy of Fran.

"I would like nothing more."

I was true to my word. Once we'd gotten into the bedroom, I locked the door. The gesture was unnecessary, but symbolic.

I turned to meet Balthier's eyes across the room. I burned with a yearning unassuaged by our previous joining. It was a different kind of need that pricked me now. What I wanted, I could not say, so I left everything in Balthier's hands.

I knelt in the center of the room. "Once, I said I would trust you, and it was the smartest thing I ever did. I have never stopped trusting you, excepting one time. Allow me to prove myself once more."

The look that Balthier gave me now was long and inscrutable. I held my breath, hoping that he would know what I meant, would grant me the release I craved.

But it seemed our previous tryst had restored our subconscious link, because he nodded slowly.

"Lie down." I obeyed, turning my head to watch as he opened a drawer in the bedside table, taking out a silk-wrapped bundle bound with cords.

The cords went around my wrists and ankles, tied securely and stretching my limbs so that I was quite unable to move. As the dark silk was unwrapped, I took in an involuntary breath. Glinting dully in the dim light were the unmistakable silver blades of flechettes.

Then I saw no more, because the length of silk covered my eyes.

I balked at that, and in total darkness, almost asked him to remove it, because I had been without his face for as long as I could stand. But that in itself was a form of pain, and the hollow in my stomach was so exquisite.

"For you, my dear," I heard him whisper, "I will not dally with lesser toys."

The cold caress of steel against my cheek, a razor-fine edge tracing the line of the sash binding my eyes.

"Your _signale_?" he asked.

I spoke the word, knowing I would never use it. "Liliane." It was my mother's name. I had chosen it because, at the time of my entrance into House Flamenca, it was still the name that had made me feel safest. There was a different name now. But in the throes of passion, I wouldn't want Balthier to think he should stop.

The fine blade of the flechette, keen as a surgeon's tool, traced down the length of my throat and brushed my neckline, tracing the veins in my bound wrists, not breaking the skin, down the length of my arms. My body shivered all over involuntarily and I fought to remain still. It was hard to do, suspended like that. The blade moved softly over my skin and the point of it pricked between my shoulder blades. I was forced to admit that if I could see, the anticipation would be so much less, as the flechette was drawn down the length of my side. I was shuddering like a fly-stung horse, and incomprehensible tears that I couldn't control steadily soaked the silk binding my eyes. Desire made my mind a blank, and a yearning so sharp it was like pain made breathing a struggle.

"Such trust," Balthier murmured, and the tip of the flechette danced over my skin, pricking my taut nipples. I inhaled sharply, bound hands clenching and unclenching. Balthier chuckled.

And then he began to cut me.

Any soldier wounded in battle has taken far worse from a blade than I did from Balthier's flechettes: I daresay it was nothing to the slash that Basch bore upon his forehead; even I had endured worse along the party's journey. But the point of the flechette is not injury; it is pain. The blades are unimaginably sharp, and part flesh nigh as easily as a windslicer pinion. One barely feels it, when it first pierces the skin.

That is why the subsequent cutting is done very, very slowly.

Blind and bound, gripped by longing and a steadily growing fear that was delicious as it was despicable, my whole being narrowed to the path of the flechette's blade as it harrowed my flesh with agonizing slowness, etching an unseen sigil on the inner swell of my right breast. I could feel the blood running in a steady trickle between my breasts and down my belly. My skin parted before the blade, and flesh was carved by it. The pain was both intense release and oppressive with the force of my desire. I had put myself entirely in Balthier's hands, and it was a profound relief.

How long it continued, I could not say; forever, it seemed, until he stopped cutting and traced the point of the blade slowly down the path my blood had taken.

"Siyana." Balthier whispered softly at my ear. I could feel the warmth of his body. The tip of the flechette trailed downward from my belly, a cool and deadly caress, until I felt it hovering near my nether lips, and trembled like a leaf. I knew where next the blade would go. I could almost hear Balthier's smile. It had always been a game, between us. "Say it."

But I did not want to give the _signale_. Throughout this narrowing of focus, I had trusted Balthier implicitly. I was not afraid.

The tip brushed the moist, sensitive skin and pain blossomed, unbearably beautiful. There was a fine line between agony and ecstasy. Balthier knew this, because he pushed me over that invisible line with consummate skill and delicacy. In that single instant, agony merged with euphoria and my awareness was expanded to a point where I stopped being myself, confined and tormented by my own fears and insecurities, and became something _other_, indefinable, enveloping not only Balthier, but all the universe as well. It is possible, in pain. There is no time, but only the eternal present. The feeling is one of relief, the torrent of pent up frustration and confusion, the deluge of emotion and sensation that was possible only when I surrendered my _self_ so utterly and completely. If I had not been so far over the edge that I was freefalling through oblivion, I might have given the _signale_; I do not know. Such feelings are not meant to be contained by a human being, and I had reached my limit. With an almost regretful breath, I relinquished the godlike prescience and sighed the word.

"Liliane."

Every muscle in my body went rigid against the force of the climax that overtook me. Not until it ended did Balthier withdraw the flechette, and I sagged, limp and very much human, in my bonds.

My blindfold was removed, and the sight of Balthier's face was like the first glorious flash of sunrise. I blinked upward in the lamplight, half-dazzled and descending through various layers of consciousness, as he silently untied the cords binding me. The rush of blood was a heady thing as I threw my arms around him, drawing him close.

"Thank-you," I whispered. With anyone else, the words might have been misinterpreted. Not with Balthier. When I looked into his eyes, I knew that he was aware of everything that had transpired.

Words would not suffice to express how much I adored him.

The perfection of Balthier's face hovered above me, and I luxuriated in a cloud of his kisses.

"I love you," he said. "This trust – I don't know what to do with it. I don't know how to accept it."

"You don't have to," I murmured. "It's yours regardless. It has been since the first." Thinking back on the agonies it has caused, though, I had to chuckle. "I must be insane."

"It is remarkable how similar the pattern of love is to the pattern of insanity," Balthier quoted. I knew the line, but I couldn't for the life of me remember where it was from. Because at that moment, I knew the thing was done. Well and truly done. Balthier had taken the step from admitting he loved me to acknowledging that I loved him. And the relief and release that I had been feeling a second before could have been merely a shadow.

I hardly paid attention to Balthier's whispering of a quick Cure – with no impatience now – and my cuts knitting themselves.

"Please." I heard the word before I realized I'd said it. He turned to me with an amused expression. "What do you want?"

"You." I had never asked it of him before – straight out and pleading. He smiled. "If you insist."

Afterward, he was well-pleased, and caressed my back with long, sensuous strokes. It was somehow a relief to know that, no matter what else might change between us, this would always be the same. The basis of our relationship would never differ. I decided, that night, that I _must_ be crazy. Part of it may have been conditioning, but I adored him the most when he only grudgingly acquiesced, when he made me believe it was only my insistence that moved him. There was something enigmatically delicious about not knowing whether he was being honest or not.

Surrounded by beauty, sated, languid, and completely content, I fell asleep softly, with my every thought one of Balthier.

*

I woke with the afternoon sun streaming in the window and was briefly disoriented, wondering where I was and why it wasn't morning. Memory returned in a flood and I looked over at Balthier. He was lightly dozing – I guessed he had fallen asleep waiting for me to wake up. I traced my fingers over the sigil on my breast, the lines still red and clear, even though the blood had gone. A Cure would heal it with no remnants, though somehow I couldn't bring myself to do it. It would probably fade on its own anyway. With a shake of my head, I examined my love.

The sheets had been pulled down to his waist, and I was presented with a marvellous view of his torso. It may sound difficult to believe, but I had never really seen his chest, bare, in the full light of day, since we'd been reunited. When he'd been naked, I'd been forcibly distracted, and to bed he'd always worn some kind of shirt, presumably to make it easier to sleep with me beside him, and I hadn't minded, as it left little to be imagined. Now I saw that there was a great deal more to imagine than I could have realized. I let out a little startled sound.

He stirred and looked at me, and saw me staring. He sighed.

I gazed, wide-eyed, at the long, furrowed scar raking his side, a mark that hadn't been there before, and a reminder of what had caused it. _Bahamut_. I felt like I'd been doused in cold water. He lay still and silent under my regard, watching my expression. I couldn't move or speak for several moments. When I did move, it was only to run my lips down the curving shrapnel wound, from under his arm to just beneath his ribcage. He shivered slightly. He may have been actively hiding it from me, but I was sure to have found it sooner or later. Balthier was incredibly vain, but he had gotten this wound in exchange for saving all Dalmasca. It was a part of him now, and I loved it as I did the rest of him.

"You needn't look so tempting," I murmured.

"This scarred thing?" He asked flippantly, gesturing to his body.

"Mm-hmm." My lips curved. "That very one." I stooped to kiss him, my lips lingering on his, until they met mine with what almost seemed like relief, which I thought was foolish. If he thought a single scar was going to affect my feelings for him, after everything else that had come before…

But I'd always known how much care Balthier took of his own appearance. I shuddered to think of how deep it must have been before, if Cure had only been able to do this much.

"You _flew_?" I whispered. "All the way to the Border-woods? With _this_?"

"One of the most difficult things I've ever done," he told me seriously, and I knew he wasn't just talking about the wound. "You haven't healed that yet?" He indicated the sigil. I allowed him to divert attention from himself, shrugging. "It's not hardly the worst cut I've received. I've taken too many Cures as it is. My body can heal for itself."

He gave a sly smirk, as if he knew what I left unsaid. Well, let him. Anything that proved how irrationally attached to him I was, was probably a good thing.

I wore my new gown to rehearsal that afternoon. After much bowing and compliments from Scizarra, we got down to business. The scene we were to play was the final one, the death scene. I hesitated a moment at that, and Balthier eyed me carefully, but I pushed aside my fears, secure in my fulfilment of the previous night. I could never have done it otherwise.

I lay still upon the bier, concentrating on his warmth to keep myself calm as he soliloquized over me.

"_O, dear Sephira, why art thou yet so fair_?" He stroked my face, which was twitching. "_Shall I believe that unsubstantial Death is amorous, and that the lean abhorrèd monster keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour_?" He knelt; taking my hand. "_For fear of that I still will stay with thee, and never from this place of dim night depart again._" He squeezed my hand – I was trembling. "_Here, here will I remain, with worms that are thy chambermaids. O, here will I set up my everlasting rest and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars from this world-wearied flesh._"

Knowing what was to come next, I concentrated very firmly on the previous day, trying my utmost to lie still.

"_Eyes, look your last_!" Balthier's voice continued, as he wrapped his arms around me. Apt, yes, but also a reminder and restraint. "_Arms, take your last embrace_! _And, lips, O you doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death_!" He kissed me, and it was all I could do to keep from kissing him back. Abruptly all his weight was gone from me – I had to remember not to reach for him.

"_Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide, thou desperate pilot, now at once run on the dashing rocks thy seasick weary bark_!" A cry was building in my chest – with great effort I swallowed it. Being unable to see was a torment – I needed to assure myself that Balthier was all right.

"_Here's to my love_!" Balthier's voice was rough, half-crazed. There was a silence. "_O true apothecary_!" He sounded faded, strained. I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood. "_Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss_" – here his lips reassured me – "_I die_." His weight lay motionless upon me, keeping me from motion.

While the hapless friar entered the crypt, trying to decide what had happened, I tried to concentrate on my next lines, making sure I could still speak.

"_The lady stirs._"

I took a deep breath, half-rising, prohibited from doing more by the weight of Balthier's body.

"_O comfortable friar, where is my lord_?" My voice was slightly faint, but that was to be expected of one who'd slept two days. "_I do remember well where I should be, and there I am. Where is my Balthier_?"

A noise was made within, and it unnerved the friar, who tried to induce me to rise. "_Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead._" I looked down at Balthier's motionless figure, momentarily distracted by the joining of _Balthier_ and _husband_ together in the same breath, but I ignored the friar's feeble efforts and he fled. I stroked Balthier's face, reassuring myself with its softness and mobility.

"_Go, get thee hence_," I said in scorn – I'd never liked the friar, "_for I will not away_." How could I possibly leave when it was Balthier lying dead here? As I had stared at _Bahamut_ all those endless hours, how many times had it been because I was imagining that I lay there with him, together even in death? That was something I'd never told anyone, even Balthier. I clasped my hand over Balthier's own. "_What's here_? _A cup, closed in my true love's hand_?" I worked it free with difficulty and inspected it. "_Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end._" It was then that I felt all of my feelings crushing down upon me, and I found it difficult to breathe. Balthier dead brought back too many memories, and I drowned beneath them, feeling my words come fast and furious, unsure if I even remembered it was just a play. I tipped the bottle into my mouth, growing angry when I found it was empty. "_O churl, drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after_?" How did he manage to die leaving no way for me to follow by the same means? I bent down. "_I will kiss thy lips; haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to help me die with a restorative._" My words sounded desperate, and my lips were, too, as I kissed him – hoping to find some tiny drop of potion that would end my suffering. My voice was tainted with wonder mingled with despair. "_Thy lips are warm_."

The first watch entered. "_Lead, boy. Which way_?" I frowned – I did not want to be interrupted.

"_Yea, noise_?_ Then I'll be brief._" I spotted a knife sheath on Balthier's side. "_O happy dagger_!" I said in delight. I drew it, examining it. "_This is thy sheath. There rust, and let me die._" _I will follow you, Balthier. No matter where you go, I will come for you. _I shoved the blade into my stomach, prepared for the cold kiss of steel and pain that would be a welcome discomfort compared to losing Balthier – a short and easy end to everything. So it was that I was surprised when the knife folded against my skin, a trick dagger. With a shock, I was brought out of my suicidal slump and fell atop Balthier out of simple bewilderment. I daresay I made a convincing show of it. I felt complete, content to stay there as the rest deliberated and the play ended over us.

In the carriage, Balthier was thoughtful, even subdued, as he absentmindedly stroked my hair. I let him ponder for a little while, then asked what was bothering him. He wouldn't answer, though, and I didn't push him. I knew too well what it was like, to be ruminating in unwelcome thoughts.

*

That night, I wandered. Through the streets of Dimethicone, to the theatre, through the endless warrens that composed the backstage (larger by far than they could have ever been in life), seeking, seeking… but what? The means to my own destruction? But I would never find it, if I didn't even know what I was looking for. The warren/streets were absolutely, frighteningly, deathly empty, and I searched without hope, without purpose…

Balthier's arms were around me, shaking me. It was a few seconds before I realized that he was saying quiet words, and that the bloodcurdling screams now filling the room must therefore belong to me. It took me a few seconds longer to realize that it _was_ Balthier comforting me, that I had found what I was searching for. I stopped screaming, though I hyperventilated still, heart racing with leftover adrenaline and fear. My senses slowly returned; my nose filled with Balthier's scent, my ears with his words, my skin on his, and gradually (though much faster than I had with Basch), I calmed.

I turned to seek him in the darkness; his face was very white. "Nightmare?" His voice was taut. I nodded, feeling tears well up and spill over as I buried my face in his shoulder, whether from relief, panic, or memory of Basch, I could not say. Balthier began rocking me back and forth, too fast to soothe, and seemed to be keeping up a litany of swearwords under his breath.

"It must have been the death scene that brought it on," I said, hoping that my voice was not as weak and helpless as it sounded.

"It's fine, you're fine. I'm here," Balthier broke off and murmured, stroking my hair. "It wasn't real."

I tried to blink the tears out of my eyes, but more followed. I let out a strangled sound, instead clutching my arms around his neck and feverishly locking my mouth with his. It wasn't desire at all – it was need, acute to the point of pain. Seeming to realize this, he held me in a vice grip, perhaps tight enough to give me bruises, and kissed me for all I was worth. When at last I could take no more, he released me, holding me somewhat more gently as my breathing regulated. I caressed my tears away from where they'd fallen on his face.

"Oh, Ffamran…" I had to search for words. "I'm sorry," I said at last, though the sentiment was inadequate. "I… I never wanted you to see that."

He shook his head, pulling me closer. "It's all right. I _should _have seen it." He sighed. "I didn't know a hume being could make such a sound. Maybe Fran was right. Perhaps the price of this treasure was too high."

I shook my head. It was odd to hear him talking that way. "It was just a remnant. It won't happen again." I was terrified, as I always was at these moments, when I slipped and showed how clearly obsessed I was.

"And I'm frankly mystified as to why _you_ keep apologizing," he said quietly. "Especially to the one who's really to blame."

I stroked his face. "You see, that's just it. I consider myself just as much to blame as you. If I was so _addicted_…" He shivered, whether from pleasure or disgust at my words, I couldn't tell, and hurried on, "none of this might have happened if I wasn't so affected by you."

Definitely pleasure, now. No matter how irrationally guilty he may have been feeling, he liked hearing about how I couldn't live without him. He shifted, pulling me atop him, reclining once more, my body contoured exactly to the lines of his as I nestled into his chest.

"Then again, it might have," he replied, his voice sending vibrations through me that settled me more thoroughly than any words. I shrugged easily.

"So… it's no one's fault?" I was warm and happy, willing to cede the point, hoping he would feel the same.

He considered this for a moment. "It is what it is," he agreed at last. "We can't change the past – I know _that_ all too well."

"Let's just make the future count," I mumbled on the edge of sleep.

We did. Through the remainder of the rehearsals, we refused to look back or forward, focussed solely on the eternal present, exploring all kinds of pleasures, the sharp and the sweet alike. Not a moment passed unmarked. I felt more alive than ever before.

It seemed like it would last forever.

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, it has been (by my reckoning) at least three chapters without a lemon, so I thought I'd get them all out now. More to come!! xD And I thought it only fair that Balthier see what he's done (I'm having too much fun with his angst). Next up: Dancing with an Angel.


	41. Dancing With An Angel

**Disclaimer**: As I expected; it's slowing us down.

**A/N**: A short chapter, after all this wait - I'm sorry, you guys. I've been distracted, and my writing's sort of taken a dip. My apologies. On the upside, the playlist has been updated! (if you want to know the song Siyana and Balthier dance to, it's on there.) I'll try and get more writing done this week.

* * *

Of course, a figure as famous as the great Allantoin could not remain out of the public eye for very long. He received a steady stream of invitations to dinner parties and galas and the like, all of which, I learned, he'd been declining since my arrival. But he could not continue to shun attention and keep the public's goodwill, so it was time for him to accept at least one. He consulted with me before doing so, however.

"The choice is yours," he told me seriously. "You may accompany me if you wish. If I didn't have to attend in order to keep up appearances, I'd stay away. Dreadful things, command performance social gatherings," he commented. I considered.

"Wouldn't it be risky, considering we're both wanted?" I asked. I wanted to go – very much. But Balthier's security was paramount. "You by yourself might be innocuous enough, but wouldn't two arouse suspicion?"

He slid an arm around my waist. "To be frank, my dear, you look nothing like your poster any more."

I frowned at that. "What do you mean?"

He spun me to face a corner of the room I didn't often frequent, pointing. "See for yourself."

I had not had much occasion to look in a mirror, now or ever – I wasn't generally given to the activity. What I saw startled me. How long ago had it been since that poster of me was drawn? Six months? It might as well have been years. My hair was different. Not longer or shorter, just… different. It had grown into a new style, all unwitting. But that was the least of the changes.

I looked _older_. There was no other way to describe it. My face had lost its last vestiges of childish roundness, the sufferings I had endured etched in every line. I would have had the look of a famine victim were it not for my eyes, which stared out at me with a depth of maturity they had never had before. There is something infinitely dignified about having everything in one's life torn away from you; in knowing your limits, and having gone beyond them, knowing that there was nothing more in life to threaten you. I looked back at him in wonder, a little anxious. What must it be like for him, to have this face accusing him all day long?

"There's not a one in this entire country who would recognize you," he told me, but his smile held shadows. "And none of them could hold a candle to you."

My breath caught. "Please, spare me the flattery."

He shrugged, giving me some breathing room. "Credit where credit is due, love."

A sudden question occurred to me and I hesitated, unsure of how to ask.

"Go ahead," he said calmly, as though he were expecting it.

"The… the first one," I began, before rushing on, "was she prettier than me?"

He considered it as a serious question. "No," he said softly. "I was sufficiently experienced even by my mid-teens not to think below the waist. But she was dark and exotic, and her beauty and yours really can't be fairly compared. And she wasn't fickle, as you may have thought – she was independent, strong-willed, and knew her own mind. I just wasn't in it. She also, however, happened to be pampered. It was impossible not to be, in Archades. She tended to get whatever she wanted – we all did. You are the better woman by half."

"Truly?" I couldn't decide if this was flattery any more. I couldn't quite remember how to think. I had never, even in my wildest dreams, imagined a scenario in which Balthier would compliment me above that woman. Balthier, seeming to sense how much I needed to hear it, started up with a litany of my charms. I drank them up eagerly, knowing all along that they were simply playing to my insecurities.

"So, will you come with me tonight?" he asked abruptly, and I, off-guard, gave an answer I was certain I would later regret. "Yes."

He gave me a little bow. "Thank-you."

* * *

Yes, definitely regret. I looked around at the glittering ranks of high-echelon society, feeling as far out of my element as a Yeti in the Estersand, my mouth dry with fear. As our coats were taken by smartly dressed attendants who seemed to be of a far higher station in the world that I could ever be, I found myself the recipient of such deference as I would usually be giving.

"You didn't tell me that this would be a fete with _the richest people in Rozarria_!" I hissed.

His eyes slowly appraised the curves of my body and I softened under his regard, unable to stay angry with him even for an instant. His mouth quirked in appreciation of my new gown. He put his arm around my waist.

"Only the second richest, love," he said, guiding me further into the room. To my consternation, heads began turning in our direction. I shrank against his side, the attention stirring deep desires in me. He could have taken me here in front of this entire hall of haughty strangers, and I would have shouted encouragement. It was not a trait I was particularly proud of. "The Rozarrian royal family holds the greatest capital in the country, naturally, and none of them are here tonight."

I tried my best to make my voice as biting as I could. "Oh, that makes me feel _so_ much better." I couldn't be sure, of course, but betimes I think Balthier forgot that I was not noble-born like he was, growing up with an entitlement to certain luxuries. He had prepared me for some of it (use utensils from the outside in and so forth), but for the most part he seemed to treat this as merely routine, never really addressing the fact that this was a first for me. And I certainly did not feel at ease, as he seemed to.

The unaccompanied men were like vultures, always circling. Balthier held me in a way that, while unrestrictive, was distinctly possessive, leaving no one in any doubt who was in control. The women were not as easily put off, and glared at me behind painted smiles and lowered lashes. It was a well-known rumour that the attractive Allantoin's reason for remaining aloof was that he was already taken. I daresay they had built me up in their imaginations as someone worthy of their idol, and I most certainly did not fit the bill. Women are more adept than men at noticing that kind of thing. I resisted the urge to glower back at them. If they had _any_ idea… but that didn't matter now. What mattered was gliding along at Balthier's side in a rustle of black satin, with only my own insecurities to give away that I was not part of his world. It, along with the expensive champagne, was going to my head.

I must admit, I felt a little like the fairy tale princess, whose enchantment must end at midnight. I often caught myself checking the clock. I felt different in my own skin. My hair was up in an elegant chignon that had taken me an hour and a half to figure out how to do. The expression on Balthier's face when I emerged, however, had been infinitely worth it. 'I _do _do other things with my hair, you know,' I'd teased. I tried to remember if he had seen my hair other than braided or forcibly unbound and I couldn't. That was going to have to change.

The food was good, very good, enough to offset the inane chatter we were enduring at the table. There was a girl there, about sixteen or seventeen, who after a while of this, spoke up in a quiet, intelligent voice. She was a translator, she said, and wanted to know what we thought of her project, translating the playwright who had written _Balthier and Sephira_ into Rozarrian.

Well, Balthier was intrigued, and immediately took a liking to the girl (whose name was Erynn). As they plunged into discussion of how to make sure that the couplets rhymed, the meanings of the puns were not lost, and the iambic pentameter remained unaltered, I listened in fascination, though completely out of my element.

Let me explain the situation concerning languages at this time, for it has changed considerably in recent years with the rise of Dalmasca, and undoubtedly curiosity will arise.

However difficult to believe it may seem, the common tongue between the lands was Dalmascan. Though the country was small in size, its situation meant that it was a major trade center. Therefore, the language everyone spoke to be understood was Dalmascan. The plays themselves were written in an old dialect of Archadian from which Dalmascan was derived. It would be a challenge indeed to translate it.

It was during that conversation that I began to have the first faint stirrings of premonition, so faint that I can recognize them only in hindsight. Not because of the girl (gods, I had had more than enough of that!) but what she represented.

There was something else, too. As I watched Erynn, so self-assured, intelligent, and elegant, I began to have certain… feelings, not unlike those I'd had before my liaison with Fran. I hid it, for polite company, and threw myself into my food with a will.

Food there was in abundance, and it was something I was unused to. After almost three years on rations (for they were common in House Flamenca, too), it was a luxury to see so many courses laid out before me.

I was making my way through some delicious, sugary-sweet confection, when the lights in the hall changed without warning, becoming brighter around the dance floor and leaving everywhere else dimmed. The music that was playing was of a different kind – up tempo and infectious.

I felt a touch on my arm. "Amarante? Will you honour me with a dance?"

I swallowed, sweat I hoped very much was invisible suddenly breaking out on my forehead. My immediate instinct was to say _yes_, but there was a small, insistent part of me screaming _no_! As part of my training as an escort, I had learned how to follow a man's lead, but it was one of the parts of the training I had not done as well in. I was passable, but I did not want to embarrass Balthier.

He held out his hand to me, eyes holding an expression that only I would know as pleading, and my defences crumbled.

"Yes," I said firmly. "I'd like to very much." I took his hand, feeling the touch spark between us like it always has as he led me to the floor. I wished the song was slower. I wished everyone in the hall was not staring at us.

Balthier took me in his arms, sliding one around my waist, my hand in his. I hoped I wasn't sweaty – there seemed to be flash fires erupting over every inch of my skin. His eyes bored into mine as we swayed to the music. I think I forgot to breathe. And then he spun me.

I perceived it was a test of sorts, this dancing, but a pointless one. Following his lead was effortless, the twirl as easy as breathing. When he pushed us apart, held only by the tip of a hand, I could still instinctively sense what he wanted me to do, making our transitions smooth and instant, despite the speed of the music.

Ask me to recount the moves of the dance, and I would be unable. At some point, Balthier stopped touching me altogether, though I continued to dance. It was a while before I realized I was dancing by myself – Balthier stood off to the side, keeping time with his feet and clapping the off-beats with his hands, otherwise utterly motionless. We did this several times in the course of the song, and it suddenly occurred to me that this dance was the perfect metaphor for our lives together – which was why I knew all the steps. Together, then apart, but never truly touching – until the end.

That part came soon enough, and when it did, I yielded with relief into his body, feeling my lines fit perfectly into his, with a sensation of sliding into a comfortable chair. Whoever began the old adage, 'home is where your heart rests' was wiser than he knew.

What, then, do I remember of the dance? Balthier. His eyes, fiery, passionate, burning into mine. And I was lost.

When his hands were on me again, and I was back where I belonged, I murmured in his ear, "Everyone in this room is staring at you, and they have two questions: who is this girl and why is Allantoin dancing with her?"

He twisted me in a complicated series of movements that I followed with ease, then pulling me back close again responded, "First of all, everyone in this room is not staring at me, they are staring at you. And the answers are: Siyana Amaranth, because she said yes."

I had been saying it to him all this time, continuing to reassure him past even the limits of my strength, past when any rational hume would have said _no_. _I love you. Yes, yes, yes_.

Balthier was silent on the trip home, and it was not a silence I could interpret. His face was inscrutable, throwing me back to the years when I'd had to read through his mask. Strangely enough, this did not disturb me. Instead, it was like welcoming back an old friend. It was familiar, with nothing about it to frighten me any more. I was certain now I was crazy.

Once we entered the house, his face was still hard and set. He closed the door with a sharp snap, turning to look at me. There was something in his eyes that made me kneel instinctively.

In the instant I took my eyes off him, he was suddenly behind me, his hand twined in my hair in a motion that was not quite a caress. He pulled my head back, wrenching it against his leg. My breath came faster, my neck feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"I saw you looking at Erynn tonight," he said with a yank. "It was in a way I didn't like." He was applying pressure to the spot where my pulse beat in my throat and I saw stars. "You were having _thoughts_, weren't you?"

I turned my head, resting my cheek against his leg, breathing hot and laboured. It would do no good to dissemble. "Yes," I breathed, languor pervading my limbs. He pressed his thigh hard against the back of my head, sliding his hand down to encircle my throat.

"Ah, but you don't belong to Erynn, do you?" he asked, punctuating his words with a jerk of his hand. I shook my head as best I could as my consciousness began to ebb.

"No." It was hardly more than a puff of air. His hand loosened on my throat, rising to cup the back of my head.

"On your feet," he said, grinding out the words. "Strip."

It is a monstrous thing, to find pleasure in such treatment. And yet, truly, there is nothing like the exquisite submission of surrendering one's will to another. I rose, undoing my laces and slipping my gown off my shoulders, letting it pool around my ankles in a whisper of silk.

"Stand over there," he said roughly, pointing toward a low chair. "Bend over and grasp the arms."

And, ah, gods and goddesses! I did. He stood behind me, a deep and brooding presence. One by one, he undid the pins that held my hair coiled atop my head. It fell in a red-gold cascade over my shoulders. I felt somehow younger, even more vulnerable. My mouth was parched with desire, my palms sweating as I grasped the chair arms, the tips of my breasts brushing the cushion.

The air between us crackled.

"You like that." He drew near and trailed what felt like a tawse paddle down the length of my spine, the cleft of my buttocks. He slid one hand between my thighs, fingering me. Gods, I was wet! "Spread your legs. Wider."

I did.

"That's how much you want this." He withdrew his hand, found my mouth, brushed his fingers over my lips. I turned my head, sucking obediently. My own salty desire nearly sent me over the edge. "Isn't it?"

I made a muffled sound of agreement.

He pulled away. "I am going to flog you now," he said, his voice sounding harsh and strange, raw and powerful. Seductive. "Until you beg me to stop. And when you do, I'm going to take you where you stand, hard. Understood?"

"Yes," I whispered.

He did.

There are no words for such a thing. He flicked his wrist, and my flesh knew the slap of the tawse, the flat wash of pain where it landed, with a thin sharp line from the slit in the middle that felt as if it split my skin every time it landed. I bore it all, legs spread and arms braced, head lowered, shuddering in the throes of violent pleasure. He took it slowly, with consummate skill and patience, taking me to the edge of pain and backing away, over and over. He pushed me harder, farther. Over the threshold, into the realm of pain. It felt like he wanted to skewer me and split me open.

I began to cry.

I begged.

And he took me as he'd promised – hard. He pushed into me; he _slammed_ into me. Wet, so wet! He buried himself in me. My cheek scraped the chair's cushion. My nails dug into its wooden arms. I convulsed around me, over and over. He drove into me, groaning aloud, until he spent himself in one long, excruciating spasm of pleasure, filling me with his seed.

He caught me as I sagged, easing me to the carpeted floor. There, he held me, panting, while my hammering heart slowed.

"Who do you belong to?" he murmured. I had to deliberately form the word, everything in my body moving at a slower pace. "You."

He squeezed me tighter, chuckling softly. I shifted slightly.

"This… wasn't really about Erynn, was it?"

"No." He was quiet a moment. "No, it wasn't."

I glanced down at our entangled limbs. "Fframran, are you still wearing your boots?"

He pried them off, kicking off his pants. "I was in a hurry."

I smirked sardonically at him, glad to use his own sarcasm against him. "So I noticed."

"I love you." He tightened his arms around me again. "Gods help me, I love you so much it hurts."

"I do, too." I kissed his throat, shuddering again, a latent tremor of pleasure running through me. "Feel free _not_ to warn me the next time you do something like this."

He gave me a look that set my heart to hammering. "Next time? I'll not have you growing jaded on me, Siyana. I want to keep you sated for a long time. And I don't want to mistreat you."

I laughed at the sheer absurdity of that idea, and he slid one arm under my knees and scooped me into his arms, rising and heading for the bedchamber. I laughed again, kissing his face, my fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. He hadn't bothered to take that off, either. I was naked and warm in his arms, nestled contentedly against him. I could have stayed there forever, except for the urgent, rising need.

"I thought you were sated," I said.

He tossed me onto the bed. "So did I."

* * *

**A/N: **_Siyana's fete dress_: http:// dress shop. com/images /Promdresses (without spaces). Next up: the big performance!


	42. Balthier and Sephira

**Disclaimer**: You have let your eyes betray your disclaimer.

**A/N: **I AM SO SORRY! I make no excuses for the lateness of this chapter - simply the consequences of a crazy little thing called life. Hopefully the length will make up a little bit of the debt I owe you, my wonderful reviewers, and as for the rest, I'll try my utmost to get another chapter typed before I got away for March Break. My apologies once again, and I think you for your patience.

* * *

Waking up in the morning was a slow and pleasant thing. I ran my nose along Balthier's collarbone, drinking in his heady scent, so unlike anything else in the world – spice, musk, and just a hint of cinnamon – my lifeline. He roused under my light caresses with a smile on his face that was utterly carefree, so beautiful and unexpected on his face; a smile I had dreamed of causing for so long the very realization seemed like a dream. Making a low, contented sound, he slipped agilely atop me, filling me. It was a wonderful feeling to begin the day. I squirmed happily, provoking another of those smiles. He was the first to speak, propping himself on his arms and regarding me as he moved inside me.

"Sleep well?" For once, it was not a surface question, with no ulterior motive behind it. He genuinely wanted to know.

I grinned. My dreams had continued right where the night had left off, and I had no complaints. "Passably."

He rolled his eyes, rolled inside, and I let out a little breath of delight.

"It doesn't bother you, what we did last night?" There was an undertone of seriousness in his voice now, and I knew the truth was required. I ran my fingertips lightly through Balthier's cropped bronze hair, still tinged with sweat, and he shivered; the movement made its way back to me and I contracted around him.

"It was a little unexpected," I replied breathlessly, "but in a good way. Still, I'm not sure if I'm ready for a steady diet." Pain, after all, was pleasure, but different from what I was experiencing now. However, I enjoyed both the same.

He nodded seriously. "You know I would never take from you anything you would not give freely and joyously," he told me, then raised an eyebrow. "Occasional cravings?"

I drew him closer, wrapping myself around him. "Definitely."

His voice was flippant as he spoke by my ear, still within me. "It isn't true, in any case." I knew immediately what he meant, having thought amusedly that the argument had resolved in my favour.

"It isn't, is it?" My tone matched his. When he looked up to gauge my real reaction, I met his eyes, falling into their liquid amber depths. "I do belong to you. I have since the beginning. Nothing will change that – not even you." The waves that had been cresting higher and higher finally broke, and I clutched him to me. "I need not to talk for a moment."

A moment; many moments. I closed my eyes, letting that surf wash over me, slow, growing, inexorable as the tide. Just when I reached my peak, could go no higher, he poured himself into me, driving me that extra distance, into bliss.

I settled back down slowly, thoughts returning, Balthier regarding me with an unknowable expression when I opened my eyes. In many ways, his relationship was infinitely more complex. Mine was simple: Balthier equalled life. And that equation unbalanced his side. However much he might love me, his heart was different from mine.

As though reading my thoughts, his eyes became sombre as we reclined, facing each other.

"Would you have used the knife?" The change in subject had been unspoken, so when the question came out it was harsh, blatant. We both stopped breathing.

I answered his question with one of my own. "Would you have come back to find me?"

Like me, he was compelled to answer honestly. "I don't know," he admitted at last. "I would have missed you, Fran would have poked and prodded… After the treasure, maybe."

I nodded. "You would have been too late," I said softly, earning a sharp glance. "I couldn't have held myself together for that long. A month or two, yes. No more."

He shook his head. "That's…" I understood. There were no words.

"It's time now, wouldn't you say?" I asked carefully. I didn't fear him any more (at least, not in a bad way), but this was dangerous ground I was treading. I respected that, but this was not just about him any more. His eyes glinted, but I pressed on. "I know you don't want to revisit the past, and I can sympathize, but it doesn't affect your life solely. I think I have a right to know."

He didn't look like he was going to answer, so it was a surprise when words began pouring from him, first in a trickle, then in a torrent – stories of a love, sometime after the first, who had been sweet and quiet and kind, who travelled extensively and took him on trips when he could not stand another minute in the Capital. She had been gored by a Sleipnir in Ozmone Plain. Then another, on the rebound; a rebellious binge after the death of his mother – a rough-and-tumble, hardmouthed mercenary a few years older than him, who went on assignment and never came back. No one knew what had happened to her.

There were other stories; worse stories, stories of discrimination at the Akademy, of humiliation at the hands of the perverted core Judges, of the slow, terrifying degradation of his father's madness. Even then, I knew he hadn't told them all, but it was enough.

I listened without saying a word, my face frozen in horror, and it was only after he'd finished that I realized it was streaked with tears. It was the only time he didn't touch me, and he didn't even look at me when he stopped. "I'm sorry," I whispered brokenly. I knelt behind him, wrapping my arms around him, my head on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

He nodded but didn't speak. Neither of us did, not for a very long time. I held him, unable to move. Perfectly still, I might have been keeping a vigil. The sun crept across the floor of the bedchamber and another piece of the puzzle fell awfully into place.

At length, he stirred, his warm breath ruffling the short hairs of my arms. "Rehearsal," he murmured.

I barely heard him. "Why, after all that, would you make it so damnably hard for me to love you?" Mirth and sorrow warred in my tone.

"Gods!" he laughed shortly and rubbed his face. "Oh, Siyana."

I kissed him, soft and tender; a shower of petals falling.

Balthier stepped forward. "_He jests at scars that never felt a wound._

"_But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Sephira is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief that thou her maid art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious; her vestal livery is but sick and green and none but fools do wear it. Cast it off."_

I leaned upon the railing, dreaming. Despite the fact that Balthier hardly ever spoke so to me, it seemed utterly natural that he should do so now.

"_It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it._

"_I am too bold. 'Tis not to me she speaks. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, having some business, do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing and think it were not night. See how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!"_

"_Ay me!" _It was such a beautiful sentiment.

"_She speaks! O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night, being over my head, as is a wingèd messenger of heaven unto the white-upturnèd, wondering eyes of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him when he bestrides the lazy puffing clouds and sails upon the bosom of the air."_

"_O Balthier, Balthier, wherefore art thou Balthier? Deny thy father and refuse thy name!" _He already had, of course, but I wasn't to know that. "_Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be Sephira."_

"_Shall I hear more," _Balthier pondered eagerly, "_or shall I speak at this_?"

"'_Tis but thy name that is my enemy; thou art thyself, though not Balthier. What's Balthier? It is not hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part-" _here I lingered, and as I did I remembered the walk from Eleonor's to Draklor Laboratories in Archadia – "_belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name. That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Balthier would, were he not Balthier called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Balthier, doff thy name, and for thy name, which is no part of thee, take all myself._" Take me, take me. Please.

"_I take thee at thy word! Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Balthier."_

"_What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, so stumblest on my counsel_?" My voice was equal parts coy and surprised. He shrugged, gazing up at me, and I felt his almost worshipful appraisal.

"_By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is an enemy to thee; had I it written, I would tear the word_." Fframran, perhaps, would not have been so difficult, but that persona of the past was becoming more and more nebulous. It was Balthier who had the problem, Balthier who could not stay.

"_My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words of thy tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound;_" indeed, I would know it anywhere, could pick it out of a clamour of voices, "_art thou not Balthier, and an Archadian_?"

"_Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike_." So earnestly he spoke! I could not but take him at his word.

"_How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art, if any of my kinsmen find thee here._" How did he find me, there in the midst of hell? Was it destiny? Fate? It seemed impossible that it was simply chance bound our lives together. Balthier's answer rang truer than he knew.

"_With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls, for strong limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do, that does love attempt; therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me._"

My voice was quiet with worry as I replied, "_If they do see thee, they will murder thee_."

He spread his arms wide, reckless as always, daring them to try. "_Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords. Look thou but sweet, and I am proof against their enmity._"

Still, I begged him, unable to bear the though. "_I would not for the world they saw thee here._" This was our special place. No matter how much I might love the others, their intrusion would ruin this magic time.

Balthier grinned, unconcerned. "_I have night's cloak to shield me from their eyes; and but thou love me, let them find me here. My life were better ended by their hate than death proroguèd, wanting of thy love."_

Such an admission was too much for me – I tried to steer the conversation away. "_By whose direction found thee out this place_?"

His voice, careless, could not be dissuaded. "_By love," _(as though this was the most obvious thing in the world), "_that first did prompt me to inquire. He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot_" – here he smirked – "_yet, wert thou as far as that vast shore washed with the furthest sea, I should adventure for such merchandise._"

I did blush, then, but it was from pleasure and not modesty. "_Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face, else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek for that which thou hast heard me speak tonight. Fain would I dwell on form – fain, fain deny what I have spoke; but farewell compliment_!" My words now were absolutely serious. "_Dost thou love me_?" Our eyes met for a long moment and I read nothing but honesty there. "_I know thou wilt say 'Ay', and I will take thy word. Yet if thou swear'st thou mayest prove false_." And there, laid bare, was all my fear. "_At lovers' perjuries, they say, the gods laugh. O gentle Balthier," _though I loved him when he was anything but, "_if thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully. Or, if thou thinkst I am too quickly won, I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay, so thou wilt woo, but else not for the world._" I smiled, not a player's smile, a true and genuine one. "_In truth, fair Balthier, I am too fond, and therefore thou mayest think my haviour light. But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true than those who have more coying to be strange_." The look in his eyes nearly felled me: he was drinking in every word. "_I should have been more strange, I must confess, but that you overheard, ere I was ware, my true-love passion._" What had I told myself, the morning I set out to follow him? That I had to find him again, to decide if I loved him? It had been a lie, an easy escape, an excuse. I had loved him from that first moment, and that had unnerved me. And before I was ready, Balthier knew it, too. _That_ was the root of our problems, and everything else was secondary. "_Therefore pardon me, and not impute this yielding to light love, which the dark night hath so discoverèd."_ Just because I fell for you so quickly, don't think it a phase. Was that what he had believed at first? But we had grown beyond that.

"_Lady, by yonder blessèd moon I vow, that tips with silver all these fruit tree-tops – "_

"_O, swear not by the moon, th'inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circlèd orb, lest thy love prove likewise variable_." I wanted him to swear, to fill my ears with a thousand unbreakable promises.

"_What shall I swear by_?" I shook my head. He didn't need to.

"_Do not swear at all; or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I'll believe thee._"

Balthier began. "_If my heart's dear love –"_

I stopped him again. It was wrong to hear him say those things – that was my place, not his. "_Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract tonight. It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden, too like the lightning, which doth cease to be ere one can say 'it lightens'. Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night! As sweet repose and rest come to thy heart as that within thy breast!" _Goodbye. Why did I insist upon saying it, refusing his vows?

Balthier echoed these sentiments, and his words made my heart both leap and break at the same time.

"_O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied_?"

However coy my words may have been, my voice was sad. "_What satisfaction canst thou have from me tonight_?"

Balthier's tone matched mine. "_Th'exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine._"

My reply was gentle, certain and sure, as I looked down to hold his eyes. "_I gave thee mine before thou didst request it; and yet I would it were to give again._"

This distressed him more than I'd intended – he reached out to me, as though to bridge the gap between us. "_Wouldst thou withdraw it_? _For what purpose, love?_"

I smiled brightly. "_But to be frank and give it thee again._" It felt wrong – when first I'd met him, I was so different. I'd changed so much, and the love I was capable of had shifted, deepened profoundly. "_And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite._"

It is impossible to describe the look that came into Balthier's eyes then, save that I could have stayed there forever watching it; in fact I did, even after hearing the nurse's call, linger for a moment longer, before saying regretfully, "_I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu – Anon, good nurse – " _I called back, "_sweet Balthier, be true._" This I begged him with all my heart, and I think he knew it, too. "_Stay but a little, and I will come again._" I slipped away.

"_O blessèd, blessèd night,"_ Balthier rejoiced below. "_I am afeared, being in night, all this is but a dream, too flattering-sweet to be substantial._" I came out again, unable to contain myself.

"_Three words, dear Balthier, and good night indeed. If thy bent of love be honourable, thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow, but one I will procure to come to thee, where and what time thou wilt perform the rite._" Though even as I said it I knew it was hopeless, could see the fear enter his eyes even now. My next words, however, were utterly sincere. "_And all my fortunes at thy feet I'll lay, and follow thee my lord throughout the world._" Balthier nodded, almost imperceptibly.

The nurse, thwarted, was sharper now. "_Madam_!"

Annoyed at being interrupted, I shot back, "_I come, anon_!" Turning to Balthier, I whispered, "_But if thou meanest not well, I do beseech thee – "_

"_Madam!_"

"_By and by, I come – To cease thy strife and leave me to my grief._" He looked stricken, and I felt unfair. "_Tomorrow will I send."_

He leapt forward. "_So thrive my soul – " _but I had no time.

"_A thousand times goodnight!" _I departed.

I could still hear Balthier below, however, who lamented; "_A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. Love goes towards love as schoolboys from their books, but love from love toward school with heavy looks." _And it made me hope that all might be well. I returned, nurse be damned.

"_Hist! Balthier, hist!_" Yet I knew that there would be no drawing Balthier back, if we were separated. "_O, for a falconer's voice, to lure this tassel-gentle back again!_" It would have been useful, in times past. "_Bondage is hoarse and may not speak aloud – " _in confinement, one can speak only in a loud whisper – "_Else I would tear the cave where Shemhazai lies, and make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine with repetition of 'My Balthier!'_" And I would stand there listening unwearyingly, finding love and ecstasy in every syllable.

From almost out of sight came the words, "_It is my soul that calls upon my name. How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, like softest music to attending ears!_"

Into my voice I put all the loving affection I was capable of. "_Balthier!_"

His voice was soft as he responded. "_My nyas_?" The pet name made me smile. I searched for something to say. "_What o'clock tomorrow shall I send to thee_?"

"_By the hour of nine_."

"_I will not fail,_" I promised, and we both knew I didn't mean the message. "_'Tis twenty years till then._" I paused, then admitted, "_I have forgot why I did call thee back._"

There was a laugh in his response. "_Let me stand here till thou remember it._"

I shook my head indulgently. "_I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, remembering how I love thy company._"

The insouciant smirk I adored crossed his face. "_And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, forgetting any other home but this._"

The simple admission nearly felled me. I think I may have gasped. To think that he could have reached the point where he could say that to me! He sounded totally sincere. I waited a moment, searching his eyes, which were clear, holding mine. I held the idea in my head for a long, delicious moment. But I knew as I did so that I could never accept it. The realization came as a surprise, but it seemed as though I had always known it.

"'_Tis almost morning,_" I sighed, the long night was ending. "_I would have thee gone – and yet no further than a wanton's bird, that lets it hop a little from his hand, like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, and with a silken thread plucks it back again, so loving-jealous of its liberty."_

Balthier's expression never changed. "_I would I were thy bird_." I felt a surge of tenderness. Even though he only thought he did, I appreciated the sentiment no less.

"_Sweet, so would I_." But paradoxically, he would not be the Balthier that I knew. "_Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night!_" I took a deep, steadying breath. "_Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow._" The change in Balthier's eyes was palpable, and I lingered to see the mingling of gratitude and melancholy realization that graced his face so elegantly, and blew him a kiss, trying to send with it all my love and devotion, as though they were tangible things; and Balthier caught my kiss, holding it to his heart like the most precious thing, and I wondered if it was possible for a heart to break from happiness. I exited, but in time to hear his final words:

"_Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! Would that I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!_" Then I passed beyond the curtain and could hear him no more. The words had been laced with such love and care that they had seemed like a genuine blessing, and I could feel tears starting in my eyes. But when I saw Balthier in the half-darkness backstage, and he gave me an easily interpretable look, and I leaped from the balcony into his arms, and he spun me around in a tight hug until I was dizzy, I was suddenly laughing, quietly as a whisper, but still exuberantly, lost amid the rounds of applause.

"You were magnificent," he murmured in my ear, while I was clutching myself to him (or him to me, I wasn't sure), and then lower still, in a fierce whisper, "_Not yet_." There was no discussion of what he meant, not even a thought. As soon as he spoke it was forgotten, repressed in both our minds, relegated to oblivion until it was time.

When we stepped out to the edge of the stage, time seemed to slow and blur as the accolades resounded throughout the theatre. To me, who had been used to being overlooked and unimportant all my life, it felt like a dream to have people rising and cheering in my presence. Standing in the centre of the line of the cast, Balthier took my hand in his, holding it in the air before we bowed. A natural enough gesture, to be sure, but it represented somewhat more between us.

The public acknowledgements didn't stop there. I was stunned when, after the standing ovation, Scizarra stepped forward and presented me with a massive, glorious bouquet. Tears stung my eyes, and I turned to Balthier, who, apart from deeming me worthy of his love, had brought me all this. I had no words to say, if indeed I could have made myself heard over the crowd. Without warning, Balthier grabbed me, dipping me to the floor, and kissed me full on, as though he'd forgotten we were not alone. The startled sound I made at this treatment was lost in a fresh roar from the hall. I think I may have fainted for the slightest instant, overwhelmed with the rush, but then I was back on my feet, bowing a final time, and went backstage with the rest of the actors. I glanced at Balthier's face, half in shadow, who still held my hand. He, too, looked astonished at what he'd done, but not regretful. That, I knew, would come soon enough. I didn't know if he'd had a temporary fit of insanity, and if he had I wasn't complaining. I didn't want to question it, but I was sure he would. It was just a matter of time.

I refused to let such thoughts put a damper on my mood. I was buzzed, not unlike the adrenaline off a good fight, except a thousand times more potent. Balthier and I were recognized as a couple by fully half of Dimethicone, and as such did we go to the curtain party.

Almost before we were in the door of the slightly disreputable tavern which was the players' habitual haunt in this part of town, we were swarmed with congratulations and requests for autographs. It was the latter that startled me more – despite everything that had happened this evening, it was still inconceivable to me that anyone should push a scrap of paper in my face, beseeching me to grace it with my name. Panicked, and unsure how to respond, I looked to Balthier, who was already several feet away, pen out, surrounded by a gaggle of twittering girls, all of whom looked to me to be slightly deranged and kept shooting murderous glances at me. I was already too stunned to be surprised that there were a fair number of young men in my following. A pen entered my field of vision, and I spun to see Scizarra offering it to me.

"Come now, Sephira," he said with a grin. "It doesn't do to keep your public waiting."

Bemusedly, I took the pen, fighting to keep myself upright in the sudden surge. I couldn't keep track of the number of slips I signed, but as my fingers started to hurt, Balthier appeared, laughing like he hadn't a care in the world, in direct contrast to my uneasiness. He grasped my arm and drew me firmly away from the crowd and into the pub, which was reserved for players only. The disappointed fans were left outside to press their noses against the tempered glass.

It was not much quieter in the bar. I let out a long breath I hadn't known I'd been holding, feeling like I hadn't breathed for the whole experience. Balthier guided me to sit at a table in the corner, still grinning, but monitoring my reactions carefully.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't know it would be this bad. I didn't prepare you for it."

"That's okay," I said, taking deep breaths. "I'm just freaking out. Give me a minute."

He clapped me on the shoulder and went off to the bar, returning a moment later with two tumblers of the heady ale the tavern was famous for. I drank in large gulps, trying to settle my racing heart. Balthier sat across from me, drinking more slowly, eying me curiously over the rim of his glass. When I had calmed sufficiently, I asked what was on his mind.

"Oh, nothing," he replied in a deceptively neutral tone. "I was just reflecting. The last time we did this, I had just saved you from gang rape, and you took it considerably better than being saved from some over-enthusiastic fans."

I took another sip. "I'm not used to people wanting me… that way," I said, causing him to shake his head sardonically.

"And the real trouble is, you see nothing wrong with that sentence." Thankfully, he changed the subject. "Well, I wouldn't say that was the only thing those fans wanted… some of them looked quite taken with you." He grinned to show he wasn't worried, and I quickly adopted his tone.

"I noticed you had no shortage of admirers either," I returned, teasing. "Do I have competition?"

He leaned forward, the drink heating his words. "Not in the slightest."

Before I could respond, the band in the corner started up, playing a dark kind of waltz, and a chant started up from the other patrons, accompanied by clapping. "_Dance! Dance! Dance!_"

Balthier offered his hand to me, but I hesitated. I hadn't had nearly enough to drink to do what he was proposing.

As if guessing my thoughts, Balthier whispered in my ear, "It's tradition. They won't let us alone until we do it."

With a wistful glance at my half-finished tumbler, I grasped Balthier's hand and let him lead me to the centre of the floor, which had been hastily cleared of tables by cheering castmates. This song was different than the other we had danced to – slower, more stately, and yet with an edge that made my heart beat faster in a different way than it had been before. His hand was very low on my back, holding me close while his other tangled with my fingers. I could feel his breath on my face, and it seemed like the alcohol was affecting me after all. We still hadn't started moving, and the pounding of the drum and the clapping of the people around the edges of the circle were matching my pulse. I knew my palm was sweaty as he held my hand, and I was suddenly gripping his shoulder in order to stay upright. He was staring at me like I was the last woman in the world, and somewhere far away from me I felt surprise, and gratification. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. Why weren't we moving?

Balthier was the one to break the stare when he started dancing, and it seemed like my feet were cooperating without the need of my mind.

It was like our first dance, and yet unlike. There was no startling revelation here, no grand summary of our life together. Just two people, together, happy, and maddeningly in love.

Balthier's body was incredibly warm as the room seemed to melt away and he twirled me in a stately, yet somehow erotic sarabande. The room was smoky, and it mingled with the scent that was uniquely Balthier all around me. His hands roamed up and down my back possessively and I clung just as tightly to him. There were cheers and bawdy jests from the crowd, but they rolled off me like water. The only thing that mattered was that we were here, now, after all the waiting and the anguish and the detours and dead ends. This was us. I wished I could go back in time to our former selves and say to them, '_Look at what you will become. Work hard, but there's no need to worry. Someday you will become more than what you are_.'

When we finished, other couples wasted no time in taking the floor as Balthier spun me into another, much faster dance.

"What are you thinking?" he asked in my ear – it was either that or shout to be heard over the music.

I grinned, shrugging as well as I could. "I was just looking back, at how far we've come." When I was sure Balthier kept me around only for convenience. When Balthier thought me a confused girl, oblivious to be sure, but nonetheless trying to eat his soul, and certain to leave him once the job was done.

I felt his smile against my cheek. "How far indeed." He danced me over to our table and we sat back down again. I drained my tumbler, thirsty, and Balthier watched me in apparent amusement, calling for another pair of drinks. I made a serious dent in this next one before he said:

"The monologue contests will probably begin shortly – they usually like to get them going before the drinks have been passed around."

True enough, almost before Balthier had finished speaking, Scizarra called out, "Come, friends, and players all! Grace us with your best, and make mere words into such sweet music as to lull us this sweet night!" He made a wide, encompassing gesture. "Perhaps our lovely leading lady would care to enchant us with a speech?"

Having no way to do otherwise (and Balthier would have insisted if I did), I stood, moving to the centre of the floor. Balthier watched intently, and as I looked back at him, gave me a smile of encouragement. I stood silent a moment, then readied myself, speech chosen.

"_Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie,_

_Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky_

_Gives us free scope, only doth backward pull_

_Our slow designs when we ourselves are dull._

_What power is it which mounts my love so high,_

_That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye?_

_The mightiest space in fortune nature brings_

_To join like likes and kiss like native things_

_Impossible be strange attempts to those_

_That weigh their pains in sense and do suppose_

_What hath been cannot be; whoever strove_

_So show her merit, that did miss her love?_

_The king's disease – my project may deceive me,_

_But my intents are fix'd and will not leave me._"

I had started out still and quiet, but progressed louder, and my last words rang with defiance and surety. It was not really for the contest – I spoke to one in particular, whose eyes had remained trained on me throughout and nodded quietly when I was done. He got up to speak, touching my hand in passing.

"_First my fear;_" he said solemnly, "_then my courtesy; last my speech. My fear is your displeasure; my courtesy, my duty; and my speech, to beg your pardons. If you look for a good speech now,_" he grinned, "_you undo me: for what I have to say is of mine own making; and what indeed I should say will, I doubt, prove mine own marring. But to the purpose, and so to the venture._" He looked straight at me, forgetting the other audience members. "_Be it known to you, as it is very well, I was lately here in the end of a displeasing play,_" and I knew he didn't mean _Balthier and Sephira_ "_to pray your patience for it and promise you a better. I meant indeed to pay you with this; which, if like an ill venture it come unluckily home, I break, and you, my gentle creditor, lose. Here I promised you I would be and here I commit my body to your mercies: bate me some and I will pay you some and, as most debtors do, promise you infinitely. If my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me_," as if his voice couldn't already make me to anything he wanted, "_will you command me to use my legs? And yet that were but light payment, to dance out of your debt. But a good conscience will make any possible satisfaction, and so would I_." Ending the speech abruptly, he sat down again, applause startled late into coming as most were still trying to work out the significance of what he had said. But I, who had understood everything he was saying to me, sat stunned, as tears unheeded came to my eyes and his face swam in my vision.

"I could never…" I whispered, but whatever it was that I was unable to do was impossible to voice. Balthier nodded, looking no less moved. "I know," he murmured, squeezing my hand with his. "I know."

The contest continued, as did our drinking. The ale was deceptive, going down smooth and innocent so that you felt justified in taking another sip, and then another. Balthier watched me with amused interest, wondering when I would slip, but my tolerance had increased considerably since the last time I had drunk with Balthier, and I could at least hold par with him now, if not drink slightly better than he did. Neither of us won – we hadn't really been trying, so it came as no surprise – and the losers all had to drink a penalty glass. I did so with relish, feeling comfortably fuzzy and liberated. As the musicians started up a merry tune, I found myself simply unable to remain still and went over to Balthier.

"Want to dance?" I asked. Balthier grinned and acquiesced, taking my hand. "I thought you'd never ask."

We raced to the complicated steps of some jig or another, spinning until I was dizzy and then spinning some more. The room became a pleasant blur, and my face hurt from smiling. I didn't know how many dances we led, but at some point a familiar looking woman came over with two more glasses of ale, and we downed them like water, returning to our dance in seconds. Eventually it was the musicians who took a break, exhausted, and we returned to our seats, panting. It was time for the toasts.

This was another time-honoured player tradition, when the men would make toasts to their ladies, each one trying to outdo the other in praise. Generally it was begun when there had already been copious amounts of liquor passed around, and toasts were as a rule flowery and prone to exaggeration. Scizarra stood first and raised his glass to the lady on his right.

"_Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stell'd_," he said, "_Thy beauty's form in table of my heart. My body is the frame wherein 'tis held, and perspective it is the painter's art_." Amid applause and many cries of 'hear, hear!' we drank to the unnamed lady.

And so the toasts went around. Some were rather cliché: "_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day_?", some bizarre, "_Let me confess that we two must be twain, although our undivided loves are one: so shall those blots that do with me remain without thy help by me be borne alone_." Some were sweet: "_How can my muse want subject to invent, while thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse thine own sweet argument, too excellent for every vulgar paper to rehearse?_", and some just amusing, because the speakers were too drunk to be coherent: "_If had I a silver piece for every time I think of her, then would the stars shine on my silver, more innumerable than the moon, because you're there_." Of course, being no less inebriated, such beautiful sentiments moved some to tears.

Then it was Balthier's turn. I had already finished my tumbler on the go-round and had to be on the fourth or fifth by the time he rose. He had drunk no less than the rest of us, but he had an oddly introspective look as our laughter continued to ring in the small room.

"My lady yields with a willow's grace," he said, "and endures with the strength of mountains. Without her, life would be calm, and yet, would lack all meaning."

Well, he just about brought the house down. There was an outbreak of cheering and stamping, grown men wept into their napkins, and I, overcome, drained my glass and kissed him there in front of everyone.

"That's the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me," I sobbed. I'd meant to whisper, but the drink made my voice rather louder than I expected and everyone heard, and responded with raucous cheers. Then the musicians, forgetting that they were tired, started up again, and amidst the skirling of the pipes, beat of the drums, and the fiddle's crazy melodies, we danced the night away. I hadn't felt so free and happy and full of reckless abandon for a long time.

It was in the carriage after the curtain party that Balthier presented me with a box. I accepted it with a smile – if I had learned one thing during my time with him, it was graciousness.

"You seem to be in the habit of giving me mysterious boxes," I said. "What's this for?"

"Is it not customary to give the leading lady some form of gift after the curtain falls?" He had on his most courtly manner as he answered my question with one of his own. "I must, however, admit to curiosity."

"Gods forbid!" Making my tone one of mock horror as I recognized my own words, I opened the box. Inside was a gift-wrapped Teleport Stone. I looked at him questioningly.

"This is where curiosity comes in," Balthier explained. "Anywhere you want to go – anywhere at all – this is for you."

"I get to take you with me, I presume?" Happiness swelled within me as I considered taking a trip, just the two of us, to a non-urban setting.

"Obviously, since I have the second Stone," Balthier replied. "Do you have any particular place in mind?"

I took a moment to consider all the myriad, far-flung, exotic places the part had visited in the course of our travels.

"The Salikawood," I said pensively.

"The Salikawood?" Balthier repeated, sounding surprised, but not entirely. "May I ask why?"

"It's pretty," I said, not exactly defensively, but getting there. "I really liked it. And it's the first place I'd ever been with so many trees." I blushed, then, and hoped it would be hidden in the dimness. Balthier, however, noticed everything.

"And?" he said expectantly, correctly interpreting that the discussion of trees was not causing blood to paint my face.

Before, I might have hesitated. Now, I merely took a breath and continued.

"It was the first place on the trip you were… nice to me," I admitted. "Mosphoran had that snake thing. But in Salika we talked, you gave me a flower. For the first time, I admitted I wanted to be with you. That makes it special for me."

He was silent for a moment. We were so far past all that that bringing it up again felt strange, ancient, like a lost civilization. To me, the memory was faint, far away, even though it had been hardly a year since it had happened – only a year and a half since we'd met. It was a sobering thought.

"All right," he said at last. "I'm sure we could manage that."

"When do we leave?" I asked.

His breath was hot against my cheek, still heavily laden with alcohol, and I knew we were both too drunk to be sober for long. "In the morning, he whispered, his voice promising many ways of passing the time until then.

And so it was. Safely behind closed doors, he made a great show of arranging my bouquet, then paused. Slowly, deliberately, he took a rose and dropped it on the floor.

"Fetch," he said softly.

My response was instinctual. I sank to my knees, retrieving the flower in my mouth. The thorns, as I had imagined, slid easily into my lips and stung with the power of a thousand fiery suns. I gasped at the sensation and almost dropped the stem. I held on, however, and presented the rose to Balthier. There was something appallingly erotic in the way our stances differed: I the willing supplicant, begging for release, he the tall, gorgeous god who could grant me all that I craved.

He took the bloom from me, careful of the thorns. Some blood got on his hands nevertheless – my blood. He caressed my face with the petals, and my head sagged forward as I let out a shuddering sigh at the juxtaposition of tenderness and cruelty, to lay against his pelvis, blood dripping down my chin.

He cupped it with his long, cool fingers, seeming colder now because of the trickling heat, raising it to his. He kissed me and the stinging intensified a hundredfold. It felt so, so good. At the same time as it reminded me of Fran, the sensation was totally new, more intense – because it was Balthier. I whimpered, pressing my lips harder against his, reclaiming the stinging feeling. His hand spread across my buttocks, holding me tighter against the hardness in his breeches.

It had always been like this, ever since the beginning. Desire smouldered between us like an oil-soaked rag, ready to ignite at a single spark – and there were so many, many sparks.

Much later, as I was rinsing blood and sweat from my face, I looked up to see Balthier staring at me with an odd look he'd never had before. I went to sit next to him on the bed, rubbing his shoulders with soft touches, just for the pleasure of contact (though not meant to arouse – they teach such things, in the House). He closed his eyes, but not merely like he was enjoying the treatment – like a prayer, or a benediction. I rested my head on his shoulder, and he leaned into my touch as I had always leaned into his. It awoke a sensation of overwhelming tenderness and protectiveness, and a desire to wrap my arms around Balthier, to shield him from the outside world. It was surprisingly fierce, despite how fresh the feeling was, and I did just that, wondering if Balthier ever felt the same.

His overwhelming gratitude stung and warmed me.

"You can't _still_…" I murmured against his skin, but he shook his head and I stopped.

"It's not that," he answered, and I pulled him gently back, shifting so that his head rested in my lap, caressing his cropped bronze hair. "It's not that at all," he breathed, and I felt his surrender, something that was to me both repulsive and erotic in its very repulsiveness.

"You didn't have to pretend for me, you know," I said, and his eyes opened, regarding me with a depth of wisdom that was startling. "I wasn't pretending," he told me firmly, and there was no question of disbelief. I bent down to touch my brow to his. "Why?" The word came out of my mouth, but I was really saying: _how_? Balthier closed his eyes again and answered both spoken and unspoken questions.

"I suddenly realized that there was no reason to hide it," he said simply, "and then I couldn't remember why we had to hide it in the first place. I'm not ashamed of you," he informed me, and I jerked backwards in shock. He chuckled, but the sound was self-depreciating and had a deeper undercurrent.

"You're not?" I repeated stupidly. Hadn't this magic time been created because no one knew who we were, living under false names?

He rolled over, taking my hands in his, looking at me solemnly.

"I never was, Siyana," he said. "You were meant to believe it was you, but I was really ashamed of myself. Not wanting to be thought weak, despising that I thought love a weakness, pleased and pained at once at all the things I was doing to you, both in and out of bed, and calling it _love_. Most of all, I hated the way I affected you, how you just kept giving and giving and I kept taking, offering nothing in return unless it was some more crap for you to internalize…" his voice, which had grown louder as he spoke, suddenly quieted, and he turned away, as though unable to look at me. "Yes, I was ashamed."

I slid my arms around his neck, drawing his face back to me.

"Don't be," I said firmly. "I don't care about any of that. I care about you. And I'm willing to go to any lengths for you. That's just how it is." I paused, pensively. "A willow's grace? Really?"

He leaped upon me, then, bearing me to the pillows. But we did not have sex. What we shared was much more intimate. I lay next to Balthier, with him inside me, and neither of us moved.

There is a legend, older even than the Espers, that tells of when the gods made humanity. In their wisdom, the Powers created Humes with two heads, four arms, and four legs. But the new beings became too happy, and in their ecstasy disobeyed the gods and forgot them. In punishment, the gods split the bodies and souls of the new race in half, separating them. And as the story goes, each one of us must go through life, searing for our other half.

I had found mine. When we were joined we completed each other, more than just figuratively. It was something I had never felt without Balthier, and impossible to describe. We slept, then, and shared our dreams.

* * *

**A/N: **When players drink at a curtain party, extensive Shakespeare often ensues. Can you tell that I like that very much? Unfortunately, I also cannot take credit for Balthier's lovely toast - the wording for that comes from Jacqueline Carey through Joscelin Verreuil.

Next up: return to the Salikawood!


	43. Lypiphera

**Disclaimer: **The Humes ever skew Disclaimer's weave.

**A/N:** My dear readers, again, apologies for the delay in publishing the chapter. It's getting close to the end of my senior year and I've had projects and essays and tests and presentations and rehearsals and performances and all manner of other important stuff that will have a direct impact on my future. But never fear: I have not forgotten you! I am a reader myself and I know what it's like when an author stops updating. That will not happen here, I promise. I may kick myself for saying this, but I'd like to be finished before I go away for the summer if at all possible. That said, please enjoy chapter 43!

* * *

It felt strange to be 'suiting up' again – stranger than I thought it would be, after living on the road for so long. My old skirt and jacket felt revealing in a way they never had before – the leather, after so much silk and chiffon, seemed tight and restrictive. Yet there was something about the change that I had been waiting for, subconsciously, and it felt good to return. Balthier put his vest back on, strapped his gun on his back, and it was like we were still with the party, off to some new and strange locale.

"There's a Teleport Stone outside the gate," Balthier told me – I hadn't seen it. "If we can make it without anyone seeing us, it'll be a miracle." We definitely looked like our posters now.

But we met no one as we made our way through the quiet streets. Balthier very deliberately offered his hand to me, and I took it with a small smile as I laid my other palm on the smooth topaz facets. Balthier touched the tip of the smaller Stone to the larger one, enunciating clearly. "The Salikawood." A burst of light, the habitual navel-jerk, and Dimethicone rippled around us once before vanishing.

I smelled it first – the heavy, sweet aroma of rare flowers borne on a breeze tinged just slightly with salt air from the coast, with the musk of various mosses and the fresh scent of water pools thrown in for good measure. It was a perfect balance, no scent overpowering another. Then I heard things – the carefree tunes of birds, the trickle of running streams, the wind whispering through the leaves.

I opened my eyes and saw the boardwalks twisting hither and thither like the dream-sketches of a ramshackle architect, the strong trunks of trees soaring into the sun-kissed canopy, the riotous flashes of colour against the ubiquitous mottled green, and a sort of calm explosion took place in my stomach. I had chosen wisely.

I took a few steps forward, taking everything in. It was lush and temperate and as unlike Dalmasca as it was possible to be – yet I adored it.

I looked back at Balthier and found that he was watching me with the same small smile I had given him earlier, letting me have my moment.

I went back to him, catching him in an exuberant embrace.

"Let me guess," he said, amusement in his voice. "This is your favourite place in all Ivalice."

I laughed. "It is," I told him, pulling back to look into his eyes, "because you're here." I shrugged, grinning. "I'm pretty sure I'd love even Giruvegan, if you were there."

He blinked at my sudden use of the name. "You can't be serious."

"I had my name-day in Giruvegan," I reminded him. "You bought me this." I lifted the teardrop pendant slightly.

"That's true…" he didn't sound convinced.

"I never took it off," I told him. "Not even when… things were worst. Letting it go would have meant letting you go, and I couldn't do it."

He considered this for a moment. "That necklace is pretty important, isn't it?"

I nodded. "The first present anyone ever gave me, and it was from you." He looked surprised – I hadn't told him that. "Well, not counting the gift of my life, which I think rather supersedes the whole 'present' thing…"

He silenced me with a kiss that made my head spin. When I could think again, he was talking. "I get it. Giruvegan is special." He shuddered, but I think it was mostly pretend.

"No," I corrected him, laying my head against his chest, still amazed in some part of me that I was able to do it at all, "_you're_ special."

He rubbed my back tenderly but said nothing. At length he took out the Salikawood map, a remnant from our journey (it had been in his packs when he left), surveying it with a critical eye. "You know, there are whole swathes of this region that we never visited _en masse_." He quirked a smile at me. "Up for some exploring?"

I grinned, slipping my hand into his as he stowed the map. "I would like nothing more."

We strolled through the Salikawood hand in hand. I was looking at Balthier's beautiful, perfectly relaxed face as often as I did the trees, and pinched myself, very hard. My only reward was a sharp ache that quickly faded into a dull throb – I was definitely awake. Even so, I couldn't quite make myself believe it.

"This is a dream," I whispered as though the admission would make it so.

If my words fazed him, Balthier didn't show it. "Then it is a good dream," he replied, but I couldn't laugh. Not with the memory of my dearest, deepest-held dream – the one with Balthier and I exactly like this – so close to my heart. Of course, in my dream, Balthier asked me to marry him, but that wasn't what I wanted now.

"The best," I agreed.

After that we didn't speak for a long time. We had said all that needed to be said between us for the time being. And as he always had, Balthier opened up new vistas of wonder to me. I saw parts of the Salikawood I'd never imagined.

We sat on the banks of a large pool with a tree growing out of the middle, furnished with copious amounts of long, broad-bladed grass. I lay back in a patch of sunlight, absorbing sounds and smells just as I did the warmth. I wanted to freeze this moment – preserve it indelibly so that I would never have to move, never have to breathe – or leave.

I heard a rustle of grass near me, and I half-rose, reaching for my sword, but Balthier's hand on my arm stopped me.

"Just relax, Siyana," he chided jokingly, and I reclined again. A few more calm seconds, the rustle of grass continuing throughout. I cracked one eye open. Balthier's hands had just finished plaiting a stalk of grass. I looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "What are you doing? He wasn't the type for flower chains.

He scooted closer to me. "It's a game," he said. The look he gave me was heated and my breath came faster.

"The rules are simple," he told me, trailing the end of the plait along my legs. It tickled and stimulated my arousal all at once.

"If you're good and keep still and quiet, you earn a kiss." Balthier's voice was playful and sensual at once. I _wanted_ his kiss. "If not…" The sensation was becoming unbearable and I squirmed a little, whimpering.

_Crack_! The quirk struck my upper thigh, raising a slight red welt. It stung a bit, but surprised me more than anything. I stopped moving at once, gritting my teeth against the tide of need it had unleashed.

"You see?" I'd taken my jacket off previously and Balthier moved to my arms, which were no less sensitive. I tried to relax, glaring at Balthier defiantly. He chucked and leaned in, kissing me with ardour. I sighed into his lips, and he pulled away, leaving my appetite whetted, unfulfilled. I made a sound of protest, pursuing his retreating lips, and was punished with the quirt once more. I gasped a little at the sweetness of the pain and received another lash. I frowned, pondering what I wanted more. The pain was lovely, but the kiss was infinitely more so. I clenched my fists and remained still. He smirked. "Now you understand."

I did. If I resisted, he surrendered. But if I surrendered, he was the one who had to resist.

This time, when he bent to kiss me, I captured him in my arms and pulled him down atop me. He tried to get free, striking me with the quirt, but most of his blows missed, and instead of halting me, the pain goaded me to new heights.

He ended up tumbling me, there in the meadow, the scent of bruised grass rising around us. It made me think that it would be worth it, to give up everything for a flawed joy. To say, _Forgive me. It's too much to ask_.

But I didn't. Instead, we climbed one of the long, rickety ramps up into the canopy, chasing the sun.

When we reached the top, a thick, mossy log like the arm of a tree that forgot to grow branches and leaves, the light was much brighter than it had been down on the ground. I turned to look at Balthier, seeing him standing in one of the gold-green rays of light escaping through the leaves. It shimmered on the blond highlights of his hair, on the gilded edges of his ear-studs, leant a subtle glow to his tanned skin. There he stood, edged in sun, looking more like a subject of the effigies painted on the inside walls of the Sanctuary than any mortal had a right to, though infinitely more vivacious, and I imagined the way the artists must have felt when they tried to capture such a great and terrible beauty with their pale, clumsy mortal instruments. Like any artist (albeit of a rather unorthodox nature), I appreciated the changes in texture, the variations in hue, how his hair was a complimentary shade lighter than his darkling chocolate eyes, balanced perfectly by his sunkissed skin, the richness and liveliness of the palette. I saw the prospective painter throwing up his hands in despair, unable to find the mixture that satisfied him. I supposed the same thing had happened with the angels, too. And now here was this glorious being, framed in light, and he was smiling. At _me_. And he believed he was the lucky one.

Registering my gaze with amusement, he planted a kiss on my cheek. "What are you thinking?" he asked. I responded in the only way I knew how.

"Of how much I love you."

He smiled, and it was a peaceful expression. "I'd like to tell you a story," he said unexpectedly. I kept my face carefully neutral. A chance to hear his beautiful voice some more? I lay back, curling against his chest. "Okay."

His body moved to accommodate mine, seeming pleased with my easy acquiescence.

"Once there was a boy," said Balthier.

"An Archadian boy?" I interrupted immediately.

"Of course." For a moment his tone was coloured with bleak amusement. Then it was gone. "When the boy was six years old, his father gave him a falcon to train. Falcons are raptors – killing birds, his father told him, the Judges of the sky.

"The falcon didn't like the boy, and he didn't like it, either. Its sharp beak made him nervous, and its bright eyes always seemed to be watching him. It would slash at him with beak and talons when he came near: for weeks his wrists and hands were always bleeding. He didn't know it, but his father had selected a falcon that had lived in the wild for over a year, and thus was nearly impossible to tame. But the boy tried, because his father had told him to make the falcon obedient, and he wanted to please his father.

"He stayed with the falcon constantly, keeping it awake by talking to it and even playing it music, because a tired bird was meant to be easier to tame. He learned the equipment: the jesses, the hood, the brail, the leash that bound the bird to his wrist. He was meant to keep the falcon blind, but he couldn't bring himself to do it – instead he tried to sit where the bird could see him as he touched and stroked its wings, willing it to trust him. He fed it from his hand, and at first it would not eat. Later it ate so savagely that its beak cut the skin of his palm. But the boy was glad, because it was progress, and because he wanted the bird to know him, even if the bird had to consume his blood to make that happen.

"He began to see that the falcon was beautiful, that its slim wings were built for the speed of flight, that it was strong and swift, fierce and gentle. When it dived to the ground, it moved like light. When it learned to circle and come to his wrist, he nearly shouted with delight. Sometimes the bird would hop to his shoulder and put its beak in his hair. He knew his falcon loved him, and when he was certain it was not just tamed but perfectly tamed, he went to his father and showed him what he had done, expecting him to be proud.

"Instead his father took the bird, now tame and trusting, in his hands and broke its neck. 'I told you to make it obedient,' his father said, and dropped the falcon's lifeless body to the ground. 'Instead you taught it to love you. Falcons are not meant to be loving pets: They are fierce and wild, savage and cruel. This bird was not tamed; it was broken.'

"Later, when his father left him, the boy cried over his pet, until eventually his father sent a servant to take the body of the bird away and bury it. The boy never cried again, and he never forgot what he'd learned: that to love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be the one destroyed."

I had been lying still, hardly breathing, and found that I thought immediately of Basch. Before I could say anything, he reached out and stroked my cheek. "It was never really a question of believing him," he said quietly, "until the boy met a certain Bhujerban exchange student. After that fiasco, he came to the realization that his father was right, but that didn't stop him from getting involved in other relationships: he was angry now. He wanted to destroy, on some subliminal level. Eventually the price was too high for even him to pay, and he stopped loving – and destroying – altogether. This continued until he met a beautiful and determined woman who dropped into his life and convinced him very firmly otherwise." He dropped the pretence of telling a story about someone else and his voice became more serious. "I honestly thought he was right, and never was it more clear than in how I felt about you. I loved you – I destroyed you."

I interjected, unable to remain silent. "My love… destroyed you?" My voice broke halfway through. He kissed my forehead. "Destroyed all my misconceptions. Destroyed my inner walls. Every plan I'd ever had for my life. And I like it that way. You proved him wrong."

Abruptly he pulled me to my feet. "I want to try something," he said, his tone lighter. I followed him bemusedly as he, still keeping my hand, took me right to the edge of the thick log. It was a beautiful sight – straight down to the pool below, the leafy tops of trees in the way, beautifying the distance, the trunks of trees fading away into the blue-grey water. But we were standing slightly too close to the edge, and even for me, who rarely got vertigo, it seemed slightly risky. Who knew how sturdy this tree branch was?

I looked questioningly into Balthier's face, my mouth open to ask the question, until I saw how he was looking back at me. Then I got it.

"Oh," I whispered, unable to pin down one emotion that I felt. Excitement. Fear. Uncertainty. "_Oh_!"

His face was alight with undisguised eagerness. He grinned recklessly, showing all his teeth. "Just a little thing I used to do, when I had to get out of the city. I'd head to Phon Coast on my own and try to simulate flight for myself." Until, of course, he'd discovered airships, falcons of living metal.

"Is it deep enough?" In my mind's eye I could see young Ffamran, stripped of his Archadian finery, contemplating the highest, most dangerous cliff to jump from. And even though I knew he wasn't suicidal, I shied away from the pain and frustration that I knew was festering in his heart, leading him to seek this cathartic danger. And I was suddenly resolved.

"Yes. Absolutely." He sounded sure of himself, and I supposed he was the expert.

"I trust you," I said, and he smiled.

"Hang on, then."

In one fluid motion, as if we'd practiced this a thousand times, we leaned forward, our hands still laced together. We leaned into a crouch, and with one dramatic show, we sprang from the edge of the cliff together, perfectly choreographed.

Like a hail of bullets, we fell through the air. My stomach seemed to have been left behind somewhere on the ledge but my heart swelled up through my chest. It was an amazing high, and I realized in an instant why looking down from heights gave me that tingly feeling. I wasn't afraid of the distance – I was afraid I might jump. Well, now I had, and it was glorious. The buffets of air fought their battle with gravity and lost, but for me it was a moment of complete and utter freedom. I let out a sound caught somewhere between a scream and a shout of joy.

The water crashed around us, cool and refreshing, and I started in surprise – I'd thought I could fall forever. We both plunged deep underwater, twisting and turning. Balthier's other hand found me and in seconds he had thrust me above the surface. He studied me intently to make sure I was all right, but I could see my exhilarated expression reflected in the deeper pools of his eyes.

"Thank-you," he whispered, bending down to kiss me.

"You will never jump alone again," I promised him. "I'll always be right here, whenever you need me." I felt his hand tighten around mine. Without another word, we swam to the shore. We lay in a patch of sunlight and let our clothes dry.

I had lost all track of time, but gradually I became aware that the light was fading, the shadows becoming cooler.

I sighed and stopped walking. Balthier halted at once, looking down at me. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"Sun's setting." I tried not to sound too devastated. There was nothing in the way of shelter in these woods – we would have to start heading back to the teleport stone.

"Yes?" He didn't seem to make the connection.

"Well… should we be getting back?" My voice was now uncertain. He didn't sound concerned in the slightest.

"Do you want to go home?" he asked, as if this was the only thing that had any bearing on our course of action.

"No," I said, astonished at his word choice. Had our rooms in Dimethicone become 'home'? Or did he mean something much deeper?

"Well then." Balthier continued walking, blithely unconcerned. "We'll keep walking."

Rather confused, but glad that the outing didn't have to end; and trusting him above all, I fell into step beside him in the gathering dusk, until in the last warm rays of crepuscular light, I was able to make out a large pergola adorned with soft white curtains, set upon a dock overlooking a still pool, reflecting the setting sun. The gauzy curtains were tinted the reds and oranges of sunset. Despite the unexpectedness of the apparition, Balthier's eyes as they met mine were completely unsurprised.

I frowned playfully and folded my arms, unable to conceal my squawk of delight but pretending it hadn't existed after the fact. "You knew this was here all along, didn't you?" It was as pleasant a haven as anyone could wish, a safe distance from the fiends, and since the falling night was warm, a perfect place to spend it. Balthier laughed, then, not his usual mocking chuckle, but a real, honest laugh, and with that rare and beautiful sound, our night began, a night which seemed to me more dream than reality. In fact, more surreal than a dream, because never in my wildest fantasies could I ever have imagined sitting opposite Balthier, being romanced during candlelit dinners, or slipping out of our gazebo for skinny dipping.

Our days were taken up with talk, and one afternoon I was rather taken aback to discover that most of it was mine. I was not a talkative person, and yet I would come to myself lying on my back in the viridescent sunlight, having been speaking for hours. It was Balthier, I realized; he had a manner about him, seeming to adopt an unassuming way of speaking that gently but irresistibly convinced me that every last insignificant thing I could think of to say was of utmost importance to him, encouraging me to reveal my deepest thoughts, so subtly that I hardly ever noticed I was doing it. On the rare occasions I became aware, I could twist my head and see Balthier, lying beside me, my hand in his, basking in the sun like a cat, eyes closed, just _listening_. If ever I paused, without hesitation or even opening his eyes, he quietly prompted me with another question, and I would slip back into the nearly stream-of-consciousness talking.

He wanted to know about everything: the little family I'd known, what I really thought of my parents, my favourite things and why (the mingling of astonishment, self-gratified assurance, and _love_ that came to his face when I informed him that he topped my list is still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen); what it had been like spending the first few years of my life rootless, travelling the world, the various pets I'd kept (to this day he remains the only person to know about my imaginary friend Arien, the gold tabby cat, since my parents couldn't afford to get a real one). Up until then, I'd thought the years of my life (at least until my instalment in Flamenca's) to be utterly unremarkable, and it was a wonder to me, re-examining it through the medium of Balthier's inexplicable curiosity, how much more interesting and complex it was – or certainly my feelings about it were.

Inevitably, Balthier's thoughts turned to Flamenca's, and I surprised myself again by telling him everything there was to know about life there – the inner despair, the relationships, conflicts, and power systems that formed among the women, the unspoken rules that existed between them, the instant I'd discovered I was a masochist, and as it had developed, the changes in my attitude towards it. He even wanted to know about (and this was the part I found most difficult to discuss) my past patrons, and in some detail, yet somehow never getting gratuitous; seeing them through his eyes, I no longer feared and hated them; I scorned them, and yet pitied them, too, for they would never know what I was to Balthier, and what Balthier was to me, and the depth of relationship we had, they would never achieve. Through Balthier's fascination, I came to view myself as a desirable object, and with his pity I pitied them – for he had me, and they did not.

Eventually, my talk turned to more recent events – the training I had undertaken, what it had been like living with Blayne (he was very curious about that), right up to my thoughts on my travels with the party.

But the nights – those were beautiful. In direct contrast to our talk-filled days, at night we seemed to dispense with the need for speech. We spent our nights in total silence, but not without communication. I tried to remember when Balthier had become so transparent to me, when I had become so naked to him, and could not. However the progress had begun, it was a delightful discovery that we no longer required verbal language to be understood, and it led to a greater degree of intimacy than I would ever have believed possible. In it I could read his absolute sincerity. Being here, with me, was all he wanted to do. And knowing this, the very last knot of fear within me, a torch I hadn't known I'd been bearing, faded away. Without it, I would never have been able to do what I did later.

One morning, the stream of questions I was expecting never came. Balthier and I sat in silence for a time, then I grinned.

"I had no idea I was so fascinating." My tone was jesting, but the words were serious.

He shrugged, hand in mine. "You were a mystery."

The answer surprised me. I scooted closer, propping my head on my hands from where I'd been tanning on my stomach so that I could look up at him.

"A mystery?" I repeated. "I thought I'd been fairly clear."

He stroked the top of my head. If I were a cat, I would have purred.

"You were clear," he replied. "Crystalline. However, I knew next to nothing about your motives. So I resolved to find out."

"Did you hypnotise me?" I asked, with a smile to show I was joking. I'd heard of such things happening before, and I wouldn't put it past Balthier to know how to do it. He looked startled for a moment, then burst into laughter. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

"No," he said, still chuckling. "Would I have had to resort to that?"

I looked down, abashed. "I don't like to talk about myself. I'm not all that interesting."

He was silent for so long I had to look up. His face wore a smirk that was half-patronizing, half-indulgent. "Says she who spent three days telling her life story."

I blushed harder, but found myself unable to look away from his eyes. "I guess it took someone as fascinating as you to find anything significant in me." He reached out and stroked my cheek.

"I love the colour your skin gets when you blush," he murmured. I shifted, stretching out in the sun and closing my eyes.

"That's a shame, since I do it so rarely."

His voice had the slightest dark undertone. "After all that, I can see why," he replied. "Though that's not really a deciding factor. I love them _because_ they're so rare." A pause, then, "why would you think I was hypnotising you?"

I opened my eyes to find he had leaned over me, his face very near mine, lending credence to my answer. "You were… dazzling me more than usual."

He grinned, then, catching me in his arms, rolling over so that I was resting on his chest. If there was a Realm of the Gods, or at least a heaven, I reflected, it couldn't be any sweeter than this.

* * *

A soft breeze stirred the curtains, blowing them like little puffs of cloud. They shimmered in the moonlight, which was so bright it cast shadows on the grass, turning it silver. Balthier hadn't told me how this beautiful resort had come to be in the middle of nowhere, and I hadn't asked. The wind blew harder, bearing with it the seductive aromas of night-blooming flowers, and when the curtains were still, I saw him.

He stood a ways removed, waist-deep in the pool, his tanned skin a shade darker than the pale lilies standing in contrast.

The water itself was deepest black, dark as the night-shadowed trees that encircled this little piece of paradise. The sounds of the night provided a peaceful backdrop, but none of them could enter. The circle had been warded long ago, and magicks grew stronger as they aged. As did other things.

His back was to me, his skin dappled by the canopy towards which he was gazing, engaged in quiet contemplation. Between the shapes of leaves the moonlight streamed down in imitation of the sun, shimmering silver rays giving an air of mystique to an already mystical place. He was motionless, his hands resting palms down against the water. I gazed at the smooth lines of his back, his powerful shoulders, his strong, slender arms, his neck, the flawless shape of him…

Except for the scar. That vicious memento which even now cast a stark outline against his perfection. The story of his decision to leave me. Of his choice to save the world. The ravages of my pain, too.

I didn't know if he wanted his moment to remain private, but that last thought had me approaching him, my bare feet soundless on the soft, cool grass. I entered the pool with the slightest of splashes, ripples circling out across the pristine surface of the water. Still, he didn't turn, until I spoke.

"Why do you have to bear it?" The words were quiet, softened by the influence of the trees. He did turn, then, regarding me with perplexity which turned to appraisal – I wasn't wearing clothes either.

"Don't know what you're talking about, love," he said sensuously. "Though if it's _this_ you mean – " a gesture at my naked body, "I'd have to say _why not_?"

I shook my head, stepping in deeper. The water was cool, more so than the grass, accentuating the warmth of the air.

"The pain." I reached out to touch his scar. He inhaled slightly, an involuntary reaction to a sensation which no longer existed. "I just offloaded all of mine on to you. It isn't fair."

"It's imminently fair," he responded immediately, catching my hand with his own, "as you've got all mine."

It was true. I sometimes dreamed my versions of what Balthier must have suffered. But it was only enough to expose how light I made of the burden.

"It's not right," I protested. "I should carry it, all of it. It's what I do."

"Hm." He made a sound of what might have been agreement. "_Lypiphera_." Pain-bearer. I'd heard the term before, but it had never been applied to me.

"I want it." I had to touch him. His expression changed to one of concern. "So that you don't have to… So you can be free."

"Pain can be good, sometimes," Balthier disagreed. "It wakes us up, reminds us of our limitations. Teaches us what it's like to feel good. It's something necessary." He toyed with a strand of my hair. "For you, though, it's different. You loved your patrons just a little, didn't you?"

"Yes," I admitted, even as I leaned into his touch. To my surprise, he didn't sound angry or upset. He just nodded. "To endure infinite suffering with infinite compassion," he recited, in a voice unlike his own. "That's what it means to be a _lypiphera_. I'm always amazed that after everything you've been through, you never became jaded or cynical, as I did. You kept the ability to love passionately, even in the depths of despair. I… however inadvertently, I almost took that away from you. If I can bear even a small portion of your burden, I will."

I was silent a moment, stunned.

"You are so beautiful," I managed in a broken whisper. It wasn't the response I wanted, but it was all I could do. It was true. I'd always thought him beautiful, even when I didn't know him and hadn't wanted to.

He smiled and drew me nearer. "That's my line." Wrapping his arms around me, he pulled us into deeper water.

* * *

**A/N: **Next up: the return of Fran!


	44. No I

**Dislcaimer: **We can follow our noses to disclaimer.

**A/N: **See? See? I haven't forgotten you! I'm writing steadily, slowly but surely, and it's my goal to complete this marvelous journey before I go away into the summer of No Updates, which isn't fair to you at all, my reviewers! Please enjoy Chapter 44!

* * *

Each day was much the same, so that my sense of time became completely fuddled. Thus it came as a surprise to me when Balthier announced one morning: "Well, we've been here about a month…"

"A month!" I exclaimed, shocked. Balthier nodded, observing my reaction carefully. "Impossible," I said in a quieter voice, looking around at the surrounding sunlit trees. Loath was I for the beautiful time to end, but at the same time I had a sense of it being almost time for something. I could have wept, but found that I was ready.

"Ffamran," I said steadily, "let's go home." He nodded again, solemnly. Taking his hand, I turned my back on the most happiness I had ever felt and followed him. I could not resist taking one look back between the trees, and saw the billowing curtains illuminated, remaining idyllic and perfect as we moved on.

"We'll be back," Balthier promised, and for good or ill, as always, I could do naught but trust him. I went back with him to the Teleport Stone, and closed my eyes as it bore me away.

Dimethicone seemed dim after the bright glass and sparkling water of the meadow. Balthier's arms were around me, warding away my tears.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, but I shook my head, holding him closer.

"No. Thank-you." I didn't want him to think I wasn't grateful. I was, more than words could express. But it was hard.

Somehow, I wasn't surprised to find Fran at the apartment when we returned – Balthier clearly had to have known. My greeting, however, remained unchanged. If anything could have been found wanting in a time so blessed, I had missed Fran. This time she returned my embrace, gracing me with one of her smiles. "And so we meet again," she intoned, stepping back to appraise me. "I trust you found your time well-spent, and to your liking?"

"Very," I replied, "and yours?" It was easy to slip into Fran's manner when I was with her. She looked past me then, far into a place I couldn't see.

"It was… illuminating," she replied at last. Balthier stepped forward, and an understanding passed between them that I would never be able to follow. In one motion, they clasped hands, yet somehow the gesture was more intimate than a kiss.

"You did enjoy yourself, I trust?" Balthier inquired, and Fran nodded. Balthier did kiss her cheek then, but the gesture was now superfluous. "I'm glad."

"When did you get back, Fran?" I asked quickly. Fran turned to me knowingly, but thankfully declined to comment.

"About a month ago." I nodded, but as the information sank in I frowned.

"A month? But then, you'd have gotten here just as we left!"

She inclined her head – whether she had gotten the gesture from Balthier or Balthier had imitated her I wasn't sure. "Indeed. I saw the performance. You did fine work."

I blinked, not wanting to understand.

"You mean, you've been here all this time?" I couldn't seem to infuse the sentence with the proper sentiment.

"Yes." Fran was implacably calm. Stunned, irrational outrage rose in me.

"And you didn't see fit to reveal your presence?" My voice was more scathing than I'd intended, surprising me.

"I saw no need," Fran replied, unmoved. "You were busy receiving congratulations. Though I enjoyed the play, there was no reason to add my own."

"It's not about the _accolades_, Fran!" I glanced sideways at Balthier for support and found none. He was unfazed, like this happened every day. My stomach dropped as I realized: I might have thought I comprehended the depth of their relationship, when in reality I'd hardly scratched the surface. I floundered, my delight at seeing Fran almost lessened by the situation. I knew I shouldn't be jealous, that I had no right to be, but the extensive time together with Balthier had awoken a fierce possessiveness in me that chafed under the closeness he and Fran were now displaying. Fran was looking at me with her trademark calm neutrality, though not unkindly; Balthier looked like he was about to say something, and I suddenly realized I didn't want to hear anything he had to say.

"I'm… I'm going shopping," I stammered. "We're probably short a lot of things. You two will want to catch up." I beat my hasty retreat from the apartment, not daring to look at their expression as I shut the door swiftly behind me, trying to control my breathing. I heard nothing but low murmurs from behind it – they'd moved to another room. I rubbed my head, trying to discern where this sudden hostility had come from. I supposed it was because of a lingering sense that Fran had a claim to Balthier that I would never be able to supersede. It seemed like anything I could do for Balthier, Fran had already done. And it stung, because I, too, had known the lure of Fran attractions and knew exactly what he saw in her. But I had grown, in the months we had spent together, and instead of wallowing in self-doubt, I remained true to the knowledge of my own attractiveness and my claim to Balthier. With a sigh, I stepped away from the door, where now nothing could be heard, and made my way to the market.

An hour or two later, laden with bags, I decided to stop in at a roadside café for lunch. I didn't think I was quite ready to face the apartment yet. As I was sipping my (very) black coffee and still wrestling with my incomprehensible emotions, Fran was suddenly there across the table from me. I jumped and cursed, having spilt some of the hot liquid over my hand. A faint Cure enveloped it – I'd forgotten the calming sensation of Fran's magick. I met her eyes, feeling more rational.

"How did you get here?" I asked. Fran raised one shoulder in the semblance of a shrug.

"I have done the same with Balthier. You Humes are remarkably unobservant when moping."

I looked away to hide my embarrassment.

"You resent me." It was not a question. I shook my head, denial coming fast and furious to my lips.

"Not exactly." You could never, however, be less than truthful with Fran. "It's just… during the time we were away I came to a self-realization as his lover. I was finally and forcefully convinced that he was _mine_, something I had wanted for so long… And then I saw you in that new light, someone with a claim deeper than my own. I never felt justified in being possessive of him before, and now all of those feelings are coming out at once. You just happened to be in the way."

"So you are… jealous of me." Her tongue stumbled over the word, like it was unfamiliar. I supposed jealousy was another Hume emotion.

"Yes, I suppose I am."

"But there is no reason to be." She sounded genuinely confused.

I took another sip of my coffee, now cooled somewhat. "Isn't there? What were you talking about when I left?"

She was unhesitant in her answer. "You."

I searched her face for the truth, but of course Viera never lie.

"Balthier wanted to go after you," she continued. "He was troubled." The words froze my heart. We hadn't been apart for this long since I'd found him again, with all my needs and uncertainties. I could imagine all too clearly how my sudden departure would have looked to him. How could I have been so unfeeling?

"Is he all right?" I gasped worriedly. "I should get back!"

Fran kept me in my seat.

"He is fine," she assured me. "He knows the matter now. He thought at first that you didn't trust him."

I gaped, at a loss. My move had been unexpected, true, but to have come to that conclusion…

"I convinced him otherwise," Fran said, "and I told him my news. I heard word of the Cache of Glabados in my travels. It is either in Rozarria, or one of the island countries surrounding it."

"How do you know this?" I asked, momentarily distracted by the news.

"In the form of a riddle, which I uncovered among my kin," Fran replied.

"_West of the Great Desert  
__Surrounded by its greatest need  
__Wilt thou find the Cache,  
__A gift in years gone by.  
__But if thou seekst to take the Children's wings,  
__Beware! Trust not every thing  
__That comes to thee from the skies._"

I tried to make sense of the words, but they were as good as gibberish to me, still consumed with thoughts of Balthier.

"So, you're no closer?"

"Not at all," Fran disagreed. "We know the treasure is to be found west of Dalmasca, which is of course the great desert. Other than that, my kin and I are at a loss, for without knowing what the Cache is, we cannot know its greatest need. Perhaps there are tomes and histories in Rozarria which might aid us, and thus have I returned."

"Let's go back to him," I burst out, unable to contain myself any longer. I'd been feeling our separation like an awkwardly-placed bruise all day. Fran smiled calmly. "You may if you wish. I have errands in the city yet." I would have protested that there was no need for Fran to avoid us, too, but the thought of Balthier alone back at the apartment prompted me to gather up my bags, and with a hasty "See you later, then," to Fran, I hurried off.

He was reading a book when I entered, though I only caught a glimpse before he heard me and stood.

"Siyana…"

With a low sound I threw myself into his arms, showering him with kisses.

"You silly, silly man," I berated him in between outbursts. "Haven't I already proven that my world revolves around you?"

"You had a right to be mad at me," he conceded. I shook my head.

"I wasn't mad at _you_," I corrected him. "Never, not once, have I ever been mad at you." Angry at myself, at my own failures and shortcomings, certainly. But not him.

He was looking at me with a sort of disguised wonder, like I was the prize rather than the outrageously lucky winner.

But there was more to his triumphant expression. "I never thought… that you were gone for good," he said slowly, reliving the epiphany. He looked at me frankly. "I knew you wouldn't leave me."

I bore him down to the couch, straddling him. "Damn straight," I nearly growled, staring into his eyes. "Took you long enough."

He laughed at my show of fierceness, reaching up to meet my lips halfway. "Yes, I guess it did. But I'm here now."

We were still kissing when Fran returned, and she brought Paraben along with her. Balthier and I were delighted, and over dinner we talked about plays we'd done or wanted to do, our likes and dislikes, poetry and movement and art… I might have worried that Fran would feel left out of the conversation, but I should have known that she would be well-versed in such subjects, and our discussion lasted long into the night.

I couldn't fail to notice the objective way in which Paraben regarded Balthier, and instinctively I handled him distinctively, stating my claim. Balthier looked amused at me being the possessive one for once, and at some point Fran drew him aside and whispered in his ear.

Balthier met my eyes and smiled.

"Well, if it's what you really want, of course."

Paraben punched me lightly on the shoulder.

"I hate you, Siyana," he said cordially. "Only know that. I hate you with the blistering heat of a thousand fiery suns."

What Fran proposed was beyond even my expertise – apparently the viera were communal in every sense. Balthier comported himself with his usual insouciant air, and I never found out whether this was usual with him or not. As we entered the bedroom, a feeling swelled in my chest, and I could recall how I'd felt when I thought I'd lost them, and how much I loved them, and all my inhibitions seemed to fall away.

The three of us passed the night together, and it was a night impossible to describe, except to say that it was surpassingly beautiful, and when it was over there was no jealousy left in me. A mantle of grace lay over us: love, desire, and selflessness at once. That night I learned something of myself. I learned I was capable of sharing and being shared, of holding fast and letting go all at once, because no matter what, the three different sensations were just that – separate and distinct, and ultimately unthreatening. I understood that now. And I was grateful to Fran for making it possible.

Later that night (or early the next morning), I lay awake, unable to sleep. Balthier had, consciously or no, been extremely possessive of me, and his looks and actions had as vital and necessary to my new understanding as water in the desert…

I stiffened, stunned, then turned over and shook Balthier awake.

"Water!" I hissed. He blinked an eye at me, groggy with sleep. I'd never seen anything so adorable, and it was indeed a sign of how comfortable I had grown with him that I thought nothing of awakening him – usually the consideration of such an act paralyzed me with terror.

"What are you talking about?" Even when sleeping he maintained his perfect articulation.

"'_West of the great desert, surrounded by its greatest need,'_" I quoted, the words now burned into my brain. "The desert's greatest need is water!"

He sprang up, fully awake now, donning his breeches.

"Spoken like a true child of the desert," he said, grinning. "I should have known it would be that obvious. So it wasn't talking about the Cache at all!" He opened the door, calling as he did so: "Fran!" Only then did I realize she was not in the room with us. Balthier was so used to Fran's sleeping habits (or lack thereof) that he knew exactly where to find her. "West of Dalmasca, surrounded by water!" In the sitting room, Fran was already unfolding a map of Rozarria.

Balthier traced the map with his finger. "Not Rozarria, it's a peninsula. And Bevernia only has a coast. There!" He pointed to a narrow cluster of unmarked islands just south of Bevernia. "Glabados."

There was a different sort of feeling in the air as he put a name to the unnamed islands. But then he and Fran began talking very quickly and the moment passed.

"We'd have to go to Bevernia first, of course," Balthier was saying. "Spend about a month hitting the streets and taverns – I'm sure they'll remember legends there that we've forgotten in the East." He disappeared into the kitchen.

"We must be careful, however," Fran said, rolling up the map. "The issue of Glabados may be a delicate subject."

Balthier returned from the kitchen with three fluted glasses and a bottle of champagne. He began pouring expertly.

"Fran, discretion is my middle name." He handed a glass to her and another to me, keeping the third for himself. He offered a toast. "To the Cache of Glabados!" We clinked glasses and sipped. It was good champagne, going down smooth and dry. I took a rather larger gulp than was necessary, trying to calm my thoughts, steeling myself up to the point. Even though I'd been preparing for it, it was the hardest thing I'd ever done simply to contemplate it. Fran and Balthier took no notice of me, discussing provisions and how much gil they'd need to start with ease born of long familiarity. I paid little attention to them in turn, instead trying to deal with the buzzing in my head.

"We'll have to get back the _Strahl_." _That_ broke my concentration.

"What?"

Balthier looked at me like I'd spoken in a foreign language. "Of course. I can't go sky pirating without her."

I brushed the statement away. "Not _that_. Why don't you just ask Vaan to bring her back?"

Balthier shifted, looking vaguely uncomfortable. He didn't answer. Fran kept out of it, I noticed, off to the side.

"You aren't going to see them." Guilt and self-loathing returned like a bad smell. I'd been so caught up with Balthier I hadn't bothered to let my grieving friends know that they were all right. The realization hit me like a fist to the gut.

"Not as such, no," he admitted.

"You aren't going to tell them you're alive?" My breathless voice could not manage the anger I desired.

"I am," he said, offended now. "I'll leave them a note," he amended.

About to respond, I met his eyes and interpreted them as easily as if I'd read his mind. _No goodbyes, no attachments. No regrets._

I went over and cupped his cheek with my hand. "I know," I said, and kissed him. My brow furrowed in despair. I was his only attachment. When I released him, he looked faintly dazed.

"That's enough planning for one night," he said, retaining his erudite diction. "Fran, if you will do the honours?" What he meant by that I didn't think I wanted to know. He rolled his eyes with a show of chagrin. "Stealing my own ship. Never thought I'd see the day."

"I've been there before," I said, with an effort at lightheartedness. The comment was meant to be flippant, but Balthier eyed me with a new appraisal. "Hm. I guess you have." He shrugged, extending his hand. "Come to bed now."

I did so obediently, trying to ignore the great and terrible premonition crawling up my insides.

It was so hard, when he was lying next to me, to put the question into words. It was insidiously tempting just to give up, and leave the conversation to the next morning – and the next, and the next… in the end, I avoided any pronouns which would broach the subject unnecessarily.

"When is all of this… taking place?" I inquired at last.

He looked at me distantly, brought out of some deep thought.

"Not imminently, if that's what you're wondering," he replied. "Two such famous people as Allantoin and Amarante can't simply disappear on a whim – even if they did spontaneously decide to elope together on the high after a brilliant performance." He quirked a smile, the matter touching too near for grinning. My breath caught. So that was to be our story. "We'll make our rounds, gather provisions – everything's cheaper in Rozarria. Maybe the day after tomorrow."

Two days. Two interminable, entirely too brief days in which the fate of my entire life would be decided.

* * *

**A/N: **And yes, I've left something out of this chapter, too. Next up: leaving Rozarria!


	45. The Leaving Song

**Disclaimer: **He's not doing it because he wants to.

**A/N: **Once more, I beg your pardon, my long-suffering readers. I had every intention of posting the rest of the chapters before I went away for the summer, but as you know, when you make plans, God laughs, and many things came up in RL. No matter. I'm here now, and I will finish the story for you!

* * *

For breakfast, Fran was there – she displayed her spoils while we ate. Books – tomes of legends, still dusty in their wrappings, and maps that seemed rather incomplete, great white spaces and edges not filled in. These must have been the "honours" Balthier had mentioned. I was becoming too suspicious.

"Thank-you, Fran," Balthier said, cracking open the nearest book eagerly as he dug in. I opened an innocent-looking volume and was confronted with flowing back text. "_In the Border-skies they wait – Purvama, the floating islands. Untrodden, unknown._" I quickly closed it, disconcerted. Corrupted Rozarrian priesthoods were one thing. Dabbling in the stuff of myths and legends was quite another. My trust in Balthier knew no bounds, but I could only assume that he knew what he was doing.

We went to the theatre and paid our respects to Scizarra, the conversation rather shorter than I expected.

"Allantoin!" Scizarra said robustly, clapping him on the shoulder. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd fallen off a cliff! If I'd known you had such a habit of disappearing after spectacular performances, I'd not have made my address so well known!" Without giving him a chance to respond, he turned to me.

"Mistress Amarante! You're looking more stunning than ever! The time off has certainly agreed with you! Truly, if you get any more heartbreakingly beautiful, it will be illegal."

I curtsied once, in acknowledgement of his flattery. I glanced at Balthier, surprised that he didn't look to be in disagreement.

"Well, we won't trouble you any longer, Scizarra," Balthier told the director. "That's what we came back to tell you. We're leaving."

He didn't take the news as ill as I'd imagined – he merely sighed, chagrined. "I should have known a company such as mine could not hold such fantastic players. I suppose I have been lucky to get the two performances I did." He met Balthier's eyes. "There's no chance of me bettering your offer? We're to try a comedy next – you know, the one about the taming of the shrew. Could come in handy," he joked, regarding us.

We looked at each other, pretending to consider it. Balthier's gaze was laden with irony. For a moment I allowed myself to imagine it – staying in Dimethicone, leaving the treasure for some later date, trying to learn how violent and disobedient, resisting Balthier's charming wiles. It was a tempting notion. But I was already whipped – tamed and submissive, a willing slave. And Balthier was never intentionally cruel.

Balthier turned back to Scizarra, shaking his head. The lure of treasure could not be denied. "I'm sorry, but the offer really is most lucrative. It's in a quiet little place, out of the way – good for Amarante." When he looked at me again, for a moment I entered another world, where I really was his wife, and we were escaping to some hole in the country to have his child, gotten on me on our wedding night; a perfectly normal, happy couple. I saw how my life might have gone, had Balthier been that kind of man – growing older together, each passing day bringing some small, noticeable change, sharing everything, withholding nothing, watching my brilliant, bespectacled husband tutor our children, looking like a vision of his father as he should have been, edged in light as he held the newborn form of his son. And then the circle would begin anew, healed from the mistakes of the past.

But Balthier was not that man, however much he or I might want him to be. And some things are too far broken to be fixed.

Balthier smiled, and the illusory future vanished like the mist it was. _This_ was what I was gaining, cutting myself off from that possibility, perhaps forever. I thought it was worth the price. I'd told Balthier once that I would be anything he needed, if he would but pretend to love me. How much more could I be, now that I was sure of his affections? And it seemed to me that I, who for so long had merely endured life, not expecting anything, relying on no one, but not making any contributions, either, that I had finally found my purpose in life.

I can think of no other way to describe it except to relate a story I heard once when I was very small. There is a certain subspecies of Sleipnir that mate for life. Scientists who studied a herd in Ozmone discovered that once a male has claimed a female, the pair's pheromone glands actually undergo a transformation, developing a completely new, unique scent. No two bonded pairs ever have the same scent, and this fragrance projects over hundreds of miles. A separated pair, sensing a subtle change in the scent, will gallop at full speed for hours to reach the other. They are so closely linked that if one becomes sick, the other, even if miles away, will start showing signs of the same illness. When together, neither partner communicates with the other, yet they move in perfect tandem. (This led researchers to pursue indications of telepathy, but they found none). And if one should die, instantly the other partner drops dead also, no matter the distance. The baffled scientists attributed this bizarre link to some sort of magicite compound in the blood, but could not get close enough to test the theory, for the rare species is also a fierce fighter. However, some wise pencil-pusher at the university dubbed them the 'Valentine's Couplers' and thus they have remained ever since.

I was like that sleipnir. I might never rule a kingdom or be a great and famous sky pirate or become an expert at anything save the bedroom arts – I might have no talent at all, except to become whatever Balthier needed, to love him more than anyone in the history of the world had ever loved anyone before.

I could live with that.

Hardly a few seconds had passed, and Scizarra was speaking, but Balthier noticed the changes in my expression. He raised an eyebrow quizzically, but I shook my head infinitesimally.

"Well, if you're resolved, I suppose there's no way I can prevail upon you to stay." He sighed. "A great shame. You were the best Balthier I've ever had. And lady Amarante, you were, without doubt, the most convincing Sephira I've ever seen."

We said our thanks and goodbyes and took our leave of Scizarra. As we set off down the street I leaned into Balthier's shoulder, feeling more at peace than I had for days.

Balthier let out a brief chuckle. "So he's seen a more convincing Balthier than me, is that it?" he joked.

"He hasn't," I assured him.

"How can you be so sure?" I looked at him blankly.

"Because," I said, as though it were childishly obvious, "you _are_ Balthier." He blinked, then grinned. "Of course, of course."

The contents of Balthier's satchel turned out to be a picnic lunch. He spread a blanket under the trees on the hills surrounding the town, refusing to let me help him prepare the meal, which smelled so delicious I was surprised I hadn't noticed it before.

"Well, it's no Salikawood," Balthier commented as he surveyed his work, "but I daresay it's good enough."

I scarcely took in the idyllic, sunny field, the singing of the birds, the magic of the tiny golden particles of pollen floating just above the grass. Balthier was smiling at me.

I bore him to the ground, the smell of bruised wildflowers rising in a miasma all around us. "It's perfect," I said, and kissed him. Though I tried to keep it out of my mind, I couldn't help but appreciate the way he moved beneath me as our lips touched and our tongues danced, the _taste_ of him – as though it were the last time.

We ate in companionable silence, but with many kisses and touches in response to our individual thoughts. I spent the time trying to screw myself up to the point. If Balthier detected something amiss in my gestures, he didn't call me on it.

With a deep breath, I resigned myself to it, saying goodbye to this forever. Balthier looked at me inquiringly, and I took his hand, looking seriously into his eyes, hoping that my preparation would keep me from tears.

"Balthier," I said deliberately. "I have to go back to Blayne." My voice caught a little, but I made it through the sentence.

His brows knitted together in confusion – I'd been calling him Ffamran for so long the word felt strange between us.

"You mean now." It was not a question. I nodded, glad I was spared the ordeal of saying it. He shook his head. "I don't understand."

It wrenched my heart. He did understand, he just couldn't acknowledge it yet. Taking a moment to collect my thoughts, I explained my reasoning.

"I told you once that I would call you Ffamran because Balthier was the name of a character in a play. I was wrong." I cupped his face with my hand. "I used to think that Ffamran was your true face and Balthier was your mask. I was wrong about that, too." I smiled, but it was only a half-smile. "Now I know. Balthier is as much a part of you, and he was the one I fell in love with first. I know him – he's the side of you the world created. All this time together has given me the privilege of getting to know the real Ffamran, but Balthier is still there, just beneath the surface. I can see him now, that you're getting ready to put him on again." I reddened, worried that I was talking nonsense, but I'd started now and I couldn't stop.

"Now I'd be willing to bet the Cache of Glabados that while Ffamran has been envisioning a sky pirating trio like Rikken, Elza, and Raz, Balthier has been wondering how to avoid such an outcome. But it's all right. You won't have to. Yes, I've allowed myself to imagine flying off to Bervernia in the _Strahl_, but realistically, I can't fit in with that image. I can't enter into your partnership, and my responsibilities are important to me." I bit my lip. "Once, a very kind man gave me the greatest gift he could." He blinked. "He let me go. And now more and more I can appreciate his wisdom in doing so." I shrugged. "Ffamran might be quite happy to have me along with him, or perhaps even to stay here with me. Meanwhile Balthier is perfectly aware: I tie you down." I swallowed, banishing the tears before they were allowed to form. "If I keep you here, if I force myself on the _Strahl_, how long will it be before you start to resent me – before you begin to wish for your freedom? I won't tear you in half. I won't make you choose."

Balthier's response was scarcely audible. "But… I thought…" That nearly undermined my carefully maintained control. I laid my head on his shoulder.

"I can live without _you_." Barely – a miserable, half-existence. "But I can't live _without_ you." He caught the difference in inflection. As long as I knew he was out there, somewhere, I could cope. "I will still love you, forever and for always. You shine brighter than anyone I've ever known, and you need air, space, to feed your flame. If you want to walk away now without looking back, I'll understand. I won't stop you – I'll even wave goodbye. Go, and be happy." I pressed my lips to the crook of his neck, incapable of further speech. He was still and silent a moment. Then he pulled me back to look into my eyes.

"Is this really what you want? Do you understand what it is you're asking?"

I nodded tremulously. "I want whatever you want," I told him seriously – I'd put eons of thought into this asinine plan. "What I'm asking is for you to decide what you want. And I'm telling you that no matter what it is, I will be fine with it. I'll go along." I took another deep breath, trying to express it another way. "The way I see it, there are three options: staying together here or somewhere like it, going together after Glabados, or taking our separate ways. My obligations to Blayne aside, I still think the third option is the likelier one. Let me explain," I begged, as he showed signs of wanting to speak. "You might say my love is all you need. It is what you will always have from me, no matter what. It's been a long process to get here, and I'm so glad we did; so very, _very_ glad. But… it wouldn't be quite true, would it?" I looked for denial in his eyes and found none. I nodded, drawing closer to him. "It's okay. I know. You've finally found what you're looking for – a chance for freedom, like you haven't had since you went after the shard. You want to get out, you want to explore. Go. Go on alone, if you want. I'll be okay on my own." _For a while_. "You're the first one to solve the mystery of Glabados. It's your destiny, I think, to go and find it." I shrugged. I loved him enough to let him go free. "You're getting your wings again soon. You could cast everything into the sky and never worry about it again. If you want this to be only a memory…" My voice broke – I disguised it by clearing my throat. I would have said more (though what, I wasn't sure), but I didn't get the chance. He drew me fiercely into his arms, smothering me with kisses. I let him, but there was a tiny part of me that wondered if that might not make it harder at some point down the line, the part that (that Gods) kept me from hoping.

"You will _never_ be a memory," he practically growled. I felt tears starting, but they couldn't fall down my cheeks – his kisses prevented that. "You do far, far more than I would ever ask of you."

I managed a watery grin. "I know. That's why it's called a gift." A half-smirk came to his face in spite of himself. I stroked the side of his face – I had never been able to touch him enough, and soon he wouldn't be near me to hold. That thought had me clutching him closer. "I feel like you've given me so much… I've finally found what I can give you."

He was already shaking his head before I finished, reaching up to stroke my face in return, a gesture that was still unusual for him. "Shall I tell you what you've done for me?" Without waiting for me to respond, he continued. "If I'd never met you, I wouldn't have found out that I was wrong. I'd fallen so far, and you made me realize that I couldn't do it alone. My life would be nothing without you, now. It's been so long since I even heard my heart – you made it sing. And what would such a song be without you?" He took my hand and placed it over his heart. It was steady and strong, not anxious at all. "This heart beats for only you." He regarded me seriously as my breath caught. "My heart is yours. And that's never going to change." I could no longer hold the tears back after that, and they streamed silently down my face. I hadn't wanted to cry, because it wasn't fair to him to show how hard this was for me. But he gently kissed them away, and they did not return. He drew me into his arms, holding me as tightly as possible. "Stay with me?" he whispered into my ear. "Until after we get the _Strahl_? I can't say goodbye without something to replace you." And I knew that when he said it he was only mostly joking. I nodded. "Thank-you."

And that was that. I had made it through the most difficult of conversations, and nothing more was said of the matter.

There was a difference in the air, not a strangeness but something like it, as we packed up the picnic and began returning to the villa. We still spoke and touched, but it was more reminiscent of when I'd found him just a month ago than our closeness of before. There was a slight stiltedness, as if each of us were trying, separately, to figure out how to distance ourselves from the centers of our respective universes. I alternated between wanting to hold him so excessively that I would have a little extra to hold on to, and wanting to touch him less so I could get used to it.

In the end, I settled on neither, instead opting to futilely continue "normally". As if I wasn't aware that every fleeting touch and breath and moment was precious.

We made it to the villa – Fran was there. She took one look at my face and nodded, as though she'd been expecting this.

"So it has happened at last." And she wrapped me tightly in her arms, saying nothing, not needing to. I knew she was having a silent conversation with Balthier over my shoulder. _Let her,_ I thought recklessly. The damage was done. No matter what she said or did now, some things could not be taken back. I realized that by letting Balthier go, Fran would also be gone from my life. Anticipating the gaping wound their absence would leave, I knew that there were some pains even a masochist could not enjoy. This was one of them.

That night, we slept together in the same bed, me in the middle, Fran and Balthier on either side. The need for closeness had won out over even the instinct for self-preservation, and I wasn't about to lose even a single moment. Fran could have slept (or not) wherever it was she went while we were sleeping, but she acquiesced to stay with me, and I appreciated it greatly. Nestled against Fran's almost feverish heat and Balthier's much more normal temperature, I slept much more soundly than I would have expected, dropping off almost immediately and so spared the long, drawn-out agony of attempting to fall asleep with a heavy mind. And in my dreams we were together, in another, nondescript place which evoked no emotion, leaving no sorrow when I woke. It was that, more than anything else, which proved I had made the right decision.

With the morning, however, came a new set of challenges. When I woke Fran was sitting awake, stroking my hair – it was this touch that had roused me; she had not been asleep as I could remember before I dozed, and she seemed fully lucid and alert now. Balthier raised himself in the bedsheets on his elbow, looking deliciously rumpled and still so heart-stoppingly beautiful so that I choked back tears at the sight of him. My hand was still in his where he had held it all the night.

"Fran, let her have breakfast first," he said, referring to the way her smooth caresses were making my eyelids flutter. This made no sense because he then proceeded to draw me down to him and stroke me himself. But I was used to Balthier's double standards and I grew languid in his arms, as I had been tense almost from the moment I woke wondering what the day would bring. He held me tenderly, sweetly, whispering words in my ear almost as soft as his touches – all the praises he hadn't got around to the day of the gala, he said.

When finally he relinquished me (still keeping my hand) and rose, Fran, of course, was long since dressed and gone. But before we went to breakfast too, Balthier sat me down at the little round table in our room, taking the seat opposite. He looked across the table at me. His face was solemn and his eyes were deadly serious. His movements were slow as he very deliberately took one of the large, brightly coloured rings from the third finger of his left hand, and slipped it onto my own. Unable to speak, I sat still and silent as he kissed my hand, and then clasped it to my heart as he released it, feeling the weight of the ring, still warm from his hand. I didn't know what to say.

Balthier's voice was quiet. "Do I need to explain?" My face must have been a study.

I shook my head, finding my voice again.

"I know this isn't a promise ring. This is to mark me as yours, to make sure I don't forget you." I smiled tenderly at his vulnerability, his accustomed ring looking strange on my hand, and his finger looking bare without it. I laid my hand over his, so that the ring covered up the space it had left behind. Completing each other, like it was meant to be. I laughed softly. "As if there was any chance of that happening."

He took my other hand. "Just in case. I don't know how long I'll be gone. And call it childish, but I want to leave something of me with you when I go."

I didn't think it was childish at all.

He raised an eyebrow inquiringly. "Did you have something to give to me?"

I shook my head again. "I could if you'd like me to, but I didn't want to put any mark on you, in case it interfered with your sense of freedom," I said, trying to put my thoughts in a coherent order. "And I didn't want to show I had a lack of faith in you."

His mouth twisted wryly. "I didn't know my gift could be interpreted in such a way. If you'd like, I could take it back…"

I snatched my hands away, covering the ring with the other. It was an instinctive move that made Balthier smirk. "No. No, that's not what I meant. What you've given me is precious, truly. I feel so honoured to be marked as yours. But I don't harbour any expectations about what will happen when we part."

Balthier's face was unreadable. "You think I'll sleep with other women?"

I shrugged. "Like you said, who knows how long you'll be gone? Who knows what person you'll meet after a long stretch of flying, when you're tired and lonesome? The point of this is to free you. But I know nothing will ever come of it, because no one has ever loved anyone as much as I love you. You know that, too, and that's why I'm not worried. And I want you to know that I believe that you will come back."

Balthier's sigh turned into a reluctant chuckle.

"What's so funny?" I asked, when he did not elaborate as he usually did.

"Oh, nothing," he said, a sure sign he was hiding something. I leaned forward, seeking his eyes, which he was hiding.

"Come on, Ffamran. I've had more experience reading your face than that. You're keeping something from me. Please don't."

He crossed his arms, showing his discomfort. "You know, it's really hard to refuse you when you ask like that."

Smelling victory, I moved in closer, sneaking around the table and setting myself in his lap. His arms moved instinctively to cocoon me and I paused just a moment, inhaling his sweet scent. "Then don't," I suggested at last. "I want to know everything about you."

"Well, it's just that… when I had made the decision to tell you everything…" Balthier's voice trailed away. I waited impatiently, giving him a little nudge when he failed to continue.

"Well, I'd had the same feeling before, when I met Fran," Balthier equivocated, still not meeting my eyes, "and I was… reflecting that perhaps you had been sent to save me." He said the last words in a rush.

He obviously expected me to laugh, or pass it off. But the words affected me strongly. I raised my fingers to his face, turning it towards me.

"I would like nothing more," I told him seriously. His eyes flicked swiftly to my face, and I held his gaze.

Never one to linger long in the throes of deep emotion, Balthier let out his breath with a flippant grin. "Well, I, for one, am glad you accepted the job."

Our resulting kiss lingered longer than we had in the bed, and we were very late for breakfast. Fran gave us a knowing and understanding glance when we came in.

I ate without much desire or even interest, wishing that I was doing something else with my mouth. When I had finally choked it all down, Fran stood.

"Farewell, little one," she said. "I must leave you now."

I blinked at her, uncomprehending. "You're leaving?"

Balthier looked uncomfortable. "It would be too suspicious if all of us disappeared. She's staying behind to back up our cover while we go to get the _Strahl_, and I'll pick her up on the way to Bervernia." I read in his words what he couldn't bring himself to say – I would not see Fran until and if we met in that much-speculated upon point in the future.

I was still too startled for tears. Ever since I had glimpsed the tips of her ears during my fated misadventure on the_ Strahl, _Fran had never _not_ been there – constantly in the background of the tapestry of my life – until that day when both she and Balthier had been ripped away from me. I had so recently gotten her back that I still thought of that hold as tenuous. Balthier, I knew, I had to meet again at some point, but Fran had proven herself capable of going her own way. Would she be with Balthier?

I had to believe that she would.

"Oh, Fran!" I rose and hugged her. She was breathing heavily, a sure sign of distress, for viera were rarely exerted. I felt vaguely honoured that a viera was emotional enough about me for such a display, though I couldn't concentrate on much right now.

"Do not fear, Siyana." Fran's use of my name sent a shiver of power down my spine because she said it so rarely. "We will meet again." I nodded, for how could I doubt such an assurance? She raised my face to hers for a kiss, and I felt her tongue dart quickly between my lips. She made to break away, but I pursued her retreating tongue and deepened the kiss. Fran returned it with ardour, and finally, when I could take no more, I released her. My eyes were dry – I was still full of the kiss.

Balthier was watching us with an inscrutable expression when we parted, but Fran leaned in to quietly whisper in my ear, so low Balthier did not have a hope of hearing: "_Good wishes. Farewell, my sister._" She then added a blessing in vieran which, if the words were unintelligible, the meaning was clearly understood. _My thoughts go with you._

I stood in a daze, scarcely seeing her parting from Balthier (not as intense, for they would be seeing each other again soon). Fran had called me _sister_! She had bestowed upon me, a Hume, the highest title a viera could give another. Balthier and Fran clasped hands and kissed. Hesitating only a moment at the door, she raised her hand in a final farewell, her eyes lingering on me. Then she was gone.

Balthier's arms were around me almost before I could blink. "I'm sorry, Siyana. So sorry." I'd never heard the words from his lips so sincerely, and suddenly _I_ was the one comforting _him_.

"It was my choice," I told him softly, nestling my face into his shoulder, "and hers, and yours. But you had the least amount of say in the matter."

He let out a bark of laughter. "Call me crazy," he said, "but I think I would prefer it if everyone blamed me."

I sighed into his short. "Believe me, I know the feeling."

* * *

**A/N: **Next up: Stealing the _Strahl_... back!


	46. Her Owner Wants Her Back

**Disclaimer: **Disclaimer will bear your slings and arrows!

**A/N: **I'd just like to thank my readers (if I still have them anymore!) for their patience while I update so erratically. This is a really long story, and as is the case with really long stories, things often get in the way. So, if you, reader, are still here and been sticking with it since the beginning (even if you haven't been reviewing), thank-you. I appreciate it more than these trite Author's Notes can say. That said, on with the show! Did I surprise you with the events of last chapter? Did you see it coming? I try to make my story stand out a little bit and to break with convention.

* * *

I couldn't contemplate what we were in fact going to Rabanastre to do, and I don't think I would have wanted to if I could. It was just the two of us again, and despite the rawness of Fran's recent departure, it didn't feel incomplete.

I had wanted to go straight down to the cabin of the carrier, but I went along with Balthier who wanted to spend some time on the upper deck. We stood in the bow of the ship, watching the patchwork of the ground below us pass by, shadowed perhaps by a whiff of low-drifting cloud. The crisp, clean air rejuvenated all my senses and I felt slightly better about what was to come. It was time to fly again.

Balthier lounged in the undiluted sunlight, the similarities between him and a cat striking me again full force, if not for the fact that I could see his wings, as clearly as if they were genuine. I was afraid, not that he might try to fly, but that he would fly too fast and far for me to follow.

Then he looked at me, and answering the unspoken request in his eyes, I went to him, smiling. And I realized that I had been right all along. I was his anchor.

He took my hand, drawing me against him and rubbing my arm. "Look," he said, indicating the quilt below. "Look at how small the world is." And it was indeed. He wound a hand in my hair absent-mindedly. "With a world this size, how can two birds such as we _not_ manage to meet?" He was reassuring me, I knew, and I was glad. But seeing him there, I knew my decision had been the only one to make.

For the rest of the flight, we sat on the observation deck. Balthier had graciously accorded me the window seat, and spent most of the trip playing with my hair.

Or at least, I assume he did. I must have dozed off halfway through, lulled by the sun and his presence. I woke with cramped fingers from clutching his necklace tightly in my sleep, chagrined at having squandered the minutes of his nearness as I had, reflecting all the while on the differences and similarities between this flight and the last one I had taken into Rabanastre. Balthier just gave me a warm, steady look, and that was all.

"We must not be seen," he told me quietly, reminding me why we were there. "Please, I know it's difficult for you, but at least try to remain inconspicuous."

I shrugged, replying in the same tone. "Well, of the two of us, I am the one who actually belongs here – unlike some Archadians who shall remain nameless." I said it without heat, knowing that he was teasing. He grinned.

"Why don't I let the 'provincial' lead, then?" I started to laugh, then realized it had to be me: Balthier didn't know where Vaan and Penelo lived. He was counting on me to get the _Strahl _back. I tried to conceal my sudden upwelling of emotion by shooting him a knowing look. He shook his head. "That was not the reason I asked you along." And he said it so sincerely I believed him. I nodded. "There's an access from Lowtown that would be easier and less conspicuous, though there's a higher chance of me being recognised." My hair was somewhat well-known in the Rabanastre underground.

Balthier nodded. "If you think it will be better than the street entrance, lead on!"

I hesitated only a second. I saw now how trust could be a double-edged sword. It felt amazing and wonderful to be trusted, but if I was wrong… My stomach flip-flopped awkwardly, and I understood what Balthier meant about accepting trust. I knew that my trust was not given in vain, so it was of utmost importance that his not be, either.

Swallowing nervously, I straightened, knowing I was right. Trusting someone else was easy; it was trusting in yourself that was hard.

We made it through the Plaza easily enough, and the Dalmascan guards at the gate were much more lax than the Archadian ones had been, so in the throngs of people we generally escaped notice. I had been too out of it to notice the last time I'd been here, but the city was happier, healthier, with more people out on the streets, laughing and chatting and trading. I saw an impromptu dance party on one corner, which would have never happened under the Imperials; all the Archadian banners had been torn down, and the city was loud and bustling, bursting with heat and humanity, like it had been before the war. Knowing that I and the man walking beside me, two orphaned children, an exiled viera, a condemned innocent, and a deposed princess had done it put the thing in perspective. The thought that I was a close personal friend of the Queen, too, also struck me, though I doubted she would have much time to spend with any of us from now on, which I supposed was how it should be.

There was one more thing on the way to Lowtown that I forgot about until I was almost on top of it" VI Galbana Street, Southgate. House Flamenca.

I started at it for so long that Balthier, who had been trailing some distance behind to make it look as though we were not necessarily "together" or heading toward our destination with any great determination, caught up to me.

I perceived his hand on my shoulder only when he called my name – apparently he'd tried to get my attention before that.

"Siyana? Come away now, darling," he said, gently prompting me to move. "That place has no power over you any more."

I wrenched my gaze away to turn to look at him, and he shook his head. "That's over now…"

He'd barely finished sentence when I stretched to wrap my arms around his neck and kissed him, not caring that we were trying not to stand out or that he disliked public displays of affection.

"Thank-you," I said, with the same passion as if I'd been saying 'I love you'. "Did I ever actually say it? For doing what you did. I told myself that was the reason I went after you, to thank you. It was a lie, of course, but after all that, I never said _thank-you for getting me out of that hells-hole._"

He kissed me softly, tenderly. "Not in as many words, love. But I rather gathered that you appreciated it."

I kissed him again. "And now I've completely blown our cover, haven't I?"

He shrugged. "We'll make another one. Certainly no-one would suspect me of being a smitten lover." He continued to kiss me.

Smitten? I doubted if at any point Balthier had ever been _smitten_. Still, I liked the sound of it.

"But tell me," Balthier said, perfectly calm, as he guided us over to a nearby bench to sit and continue our activities, "I'm curious. You've said enough about your father's role in… what happened to you, but what about your mother? Was she complicit as well?

I nodded. "My father's word was law. She cried, a little, as she watched me go – I looked back. I hated her for that. She went along with something she knew was _wrong_. She let me be taken even though she didn't want me to go. She wanted to sell me somewhere else, but my father said we'd get the most money at a brothel because I was a virgin… and she just _gave in_."

He pulled my mouth back to his. "We don't all have your strength." It seemed he might have said something more, had I not touched my tongue to his, effectively ending the discussion. I was completely blown away. We were _kissing in public_, something I would never have imagined; heaven right outside my personal hell. Being there, however, did make me wonder about what had happened to Psellia.

It wasn't long before I got my answer. When we could finally manage to stop kissing, we slipped into Lowtown, which had easily made the transition back to a bustling commerce center, and easily blended in among the crowds. As we passed a café in which I had spent the few fleeting moments of free time I had had while in the House, I happened to glance inside and saw my protégé and my tutor sitting together. Psellia was gazing up at Ayla with a look that I recognised so well from my own face that I could guess what had happened quite easily. I smiled, glad that worry, at last, was put to rest. Everything was coming full circle.

"I recognise that blond girl," Balthier said, "but who was that woman with her – her lover?"

"That's Ayla," I said, still smiling, "and yes, it would appear they're together."

He raised an eyebrow at me and my smile grew into a full-fledged grin. I looked around. "We're here," I told him. Balthier inspected the door I indicated briefly, nodded in apparent satisfaction, and held out his hand to me. I looked at him, uncomprehending.

"Your hairpin, if you please," he said calmly. I blinked, abruptly comprehending why he had fiddled with my hair in the morning before we left. I reached back, and sure enough, there was a hairpin. I took it out and placed it in Balthier's waiting hand. If it had truly been holding my hair back (which it wasn't), the strands could not have had a chance to move before, with a few deft movements, Balthier had the lock opened and the pin back in my hand. I blinked again.

"A thief never expects his lock to be picked," he said. "It should be the opposite, but it's true." He frowned thoughtfully. "I'll have to speak to Vaan about that," he mused. "I can't have my girl behind such lax security." Shaking his head, he pushed open the door. "Shall we?"

We moved soundlessly inside, but Balthier was almost certain the children were out, so we moved with speed and efficiency, not stealth. I couldn't shake the screaming feeling that this was wrong, that these were my friends, but Balthier was much more present and so I was able to go through with it.

"Hangar's this way," I murmured as I walked through the now-familiar house. We entered, and past the skeleton of Vaan's new ship (which was coming along nicely, as Balthier and I noticed), sat the _Strahl _in all her majesty. I inhaled, remembering the circumstances under which I had come here the last time and gripped Balthier's hand tightly. Balthier himself let out a little exhale of air as he caught sight of his beloved ship, which he had not set eyes on for months now. His eyes lingered on every curve, every detail, in a way that was both detached and intimate. The _Strahl_herself seemed less aloof, more welcoming, and it never occurred to me to be resentful. Balthier had lifted me to the clouds – now the _Strahl_ awaited her chance.

Balthier spent several minutes examining every inch of the ship, not only to look for damages but to relearn the exact contours, the subtle lines and sloping lines that made up the real _Strahl_, not the image (however accurate) that he kept in his head. He then rapped once, carefully but firmly, on the hull. The alloy rang like a bell.

"Nono," he called, "could you open up please?"

There was silence for a long time after the ringing had died away, but Balthier was patient, and eventually the hatch opened a crack.

"Balthier, kupo?" The tiny voice was heartbreakingly hopeful. "Is that really you?"

"It's really me," Balthier replied solemnly. "I'm sorry to have put you through that."

The hatch closed, then opened fully as the winged creature barrelled out of the enclosure and into Balthier, nearly knocking him over, if that could be believed of such a stature. Nono was alternately hugging and beating her fists against Balthier's chest, sobbing all the while, gestures strangely reminiscent of my reaction when the _Bahamut _had gone down. I quickly put the image from my mind.

"Sorry, kupo! _Sorry, _he says!" Nono was bawling. "When I wanted to help him and all he would say was 'keep the _Strahl_ safe', as if I wouldn't do that already and going off without listening and _you_, kupo," she suddenly rounded on me, and I took an involuntary step back, "not even getting on the communicator after I told you to, knowing that he'd listened to you and all…" The moogle seemed to run out of juice and drooped, before flying a few feet higher in sudden excitement. "The children will be so delighted," she said, flapping her wings very fast. "I can't wait until they get back, kupo!"

"By which time we will be gone," Balthier cautioned, interrupting.

"Gone, kupo? But why?" Clearly the moogle, who had known Balthier longer even than Fran, was not thinking clearly. Balthier did not choose to explain.

"Do we have any Hover Stones in the back, Nono?" he asked instead, taking an ornate slip of stationary and a pen from one of his pouches.

"Um… we _might_, kupo…" Nono replied, caught off-guard. She flitted off dazedly to check. Hover Stones were now slightly archaic, but in times past they had been used as convenient, stylish aerial storage when a scientist discovered that a certain type of skystone could attract atoms without bonding them together. Balthier swiftly penned his letter, which I did not read, then he quickly reached into his pouch again and brought out a leather envelope stashed inside it. As he opened it to put the note inside, I caught a flash of silver. Ashe had never mentioned Balthier's acquisition of Rasler's wedding ring, but Penelo had confided to me during one of our Sandsea stints how Balthier had claimed it in payment until he could find 'something more valuable'. Curious, I asked him about it.

"Is it the Cache?" He didn't question how I knew. He shook his head, putting ring and note down on a nearby strut.

"The Cache has been around forever," he answered, slipping his hands through my hair. "What I've found is much more recent." I blushed as I thought I could follow his reasoning, and he stroked my cheek. "I've had it all along – I just couldn't see it," he said softly. "And what I've been given is a priceless treasure beyond any Stones or Caches in the world." I kissed him as though we hadn't just spent the whole morning doing so. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

"Here's one, kupo, if you've quite finished," came a small voice from beside us, and we both jumped. Nono looked strained, comically attempting to hold onto a Hover Stone almost her size. When Balthier took it from her with one hand, she relinquished it with relief, hovering nearby as Balthier attached the message.

"He would have listened to you, kupo," Nono said in an aside that was as haunting as it was daunting. But it meant little now, and as Balthier left the stone hanging, I could tell his head was already in the skies. He cleared the stairs, then looked around, breathing deeply. I knew how good it was to come home.

He looked down at his moogle engineer. "Thank-you for looking after her, Nono," he said, in a tone so serious that Nono took off her cap and bowed.

"My pleasure as always, kupo," she returned, and flitted down to the engine room. Without another hesitation, he made for the cockpit.

As I settled into the co-pilot's seat again, I reflected how easy, how natural it would be to forget all other considerations and just be this way, forever. Balthier would do it, if I begged him – Nono had said so, and I believed it. But I thought of Blayne on Mt. Bur-Omisace and especially Fran back in Rozarria, and said nothing. Balthier was thinking it, too, I was sure, but all he said was:

"It's true. I would have listened to you. Which is why I'm glad you never got a chance at the communicator – I would never have been able to go through with it, after that." Thus sparing me much pain, but leaving others much more in the process. Better it be mine; who was more equipped to bear it? "Besides," Balthier continued, "I knew there was no way back, and hearing you would just have distracted me, preventing the completion of my job. "He shrugged as he input co ordinates. I blinked as they sank in. I'd expected him to head straight back to Dimethicone, maybe dropping me off at some outside town away from Rabanastre, but the destination he'd input was in Kerwon.

I didn't have time to ponder this before Balthier called, "Nono! Get those doors opened, please," and almost immediately sun began pouring in. My instruments sprang to life and I heard Balthier remark in approval: "Well well, they've just done a tune-up," before we were up and out of the hangar and into the brilliant blue sky.

Just like our rooms by the sea, I hadn't realized how much I had missed the sky until I was actually there, staring at the piercing azure blue as far as the eye could see in every direction. And I knew, though I had teased him about it, that every word Balthier had said was true. Carriers just weren't the same. In the cockpit of the _Strahl_, especially, it was easy to imagine one had the ability to take wing and just _soar_. I gave the instruments a cursory glance, but everything checked normal, giving me the chance to realise I had been thoroughly distracted as only Balthier could do.

I wrenched my gaze back to him. "Why Kerwon?" I asked.

"Siyana," he admonished, seeming disappointed that I'd even asked. His face was very disapproving as he adjusted our speed. "Did you really think, after everything you've done for me, that I would just _abandon_ you somewhere, leave you to make your own way? Go without looking back?" His voice took on a strange cast he said the last – something like regret mixed with resignation mixed with recognition of the changes that had been worked in him, and what he had changed from.

"You would have," I hedged. "Once."

He inclined his head, acknowledging the point. "Once," he agreed. "But that's not me anymore." He grimaced, "I don't know if you realise just how much of a difference you've worked in me. Not enough that your argument is wrong, but…" His voice trailed off and I could pick up the rest of the sentence. _But not enough that it doesn't hurt_.

I could feel tears coming – I tried to banish them, with marginal success. "I'm… so sorry…" I managed. "I'm so selfish… an idiot… I was so focused on… _me_…"

And then his hand were on my face, soothing me. "And I don't blame you for a moment, my dearest. You're the one person in the world who would have done such a thing for me, and I will cherish it, always. But you're right, and believe you me, I relish the necessity of it no more than you do."

My lips were on his, swift and needy, and he responded, slow and filling and sensual. I began it, but he had to end it, and he looked faintly sorry when he did.

"I have to go and talk to Nono," he said. I nodded, still in a daze, and it was only after he had one that I realized I still had no idea of our destination.

Kerwon. Mt Bur-Omisace? Blayne. He was bringing me to Blayne.

And even as I knew that I was right, I knew a twinge of fear. How could that possibly be his intent? It, to, was much more than I would have asked of him – because I knew he and Blayne were rivals. Friendly ones, yes, but he had been waiting for me a long time. Showing up with the man I had abandoned him for… well, that was some cause for concern.

But that was my problem. I had made the choice. If I had envisioned meeting Blayne alone, letting some of his steam off, it was none of Balthier's concern. His kindness knew no bounds, and I certainly was not about to beg off on whatever time he provided me.

Yet I had one more question, and as Balthier re-entered the cockpit, I asked it.

"How did you know where Blayne was?" He was silent for a moment – had he expected me to make the jump? Or was he just considering how to answer?

"I told you – we famous types like to keep tabs on each other. As soon as one of us changes position, the rest of us get it through the grapevine." He sighed at my incredulous look. "Beruny told Penelo, told me." As my look grew more shocked than incredulous, he flashed a grin. "Why do you think I avoided taverns and the like when we were travelling? There are people who look out for that sort of thing." I thought about that – the only time I could recall seeing him in a public place was the tavern in Balfonheim; and since the _Strahl_was already in berth by that point it was really a non-issue. He nodded at my comprehension. "And if he's moved on by the time we get there (which I rather doubt)," he added slyly, "then I'm sure there's someone there who will be able to tell me where he's gone." Seeing I was about to protest, he shook his head. "You may be a powerful fighter – you may even have taken out four fully-grown bangaa on your own. I'm not disputing that. But, from my perspective, you're not in a company of seven any more. I want to make sure you're safe."

I smiled, thinking I could see between the lines of his reasoning. "Thank-you."

We went back to our respective duties, but as always, I found myself watching him fly more than my own monitors. He let this continue for a while, a hint of a smile playing about his features, before finally turning to me. "Would you like a turn?"

I gaped, the words I had wanted to hear fading into incomprehensibility because of their unexpectedness. It was the second phrase I'd never thought to hear from Balthier's lips, and I had no idea of how to react. It took me several seconds to form a coherent sentence. Balthier waited patiently, with the same tiny smile.

"You mean... fly her?" He nodded, a glint of humor and something else in his dark eyes. I still couldn't quite believe it. "Really fly her?"

By way of answer he rose from his chair, vacating it for me. I stood as well, by reflex, but made no move to cross over. As he slid past me to settle into my chair, he spoke. "How could I let Vaan pilot her and not you?" He shook his head with a sound of disapproval.

Slowly, reverently, I sank into the pilot's chair of the _Strahl_. It was still warm from Balthier as I surveyed the skies as he did; not a passive observer, but master. And I could understand why he would not relinquish it for anything – even I.

"Do you still remember the lessons I gave Vaan?" Balthier asked teasingly. I nodded, but did nothing. I had suddenly remembered what had happened the last time I had been behind the controls of an airship, and I was seized by a severe case of stage fright. Images of the _Strahl_ descending like the _Shera_, in flames, in flames like in my first dream of piloting at the markist's, filled my mind until I sat frozen, unable to think of anything else. Not to mention I was sitting beside the greatest pilot of the age.

Balthier, of course, sensed my nervousness. "Siyana." I turned to look at him, eyes wide. "Do you think I would have let you near the controls if I didn't think you could handle it?"

That calmed me. Of course not. Heart rate slowly, I returned to the controls.

"Right hand on the throttle," Balthier prompted gently. I nodded and did as he instructed.

"Now, this is the button for the auto pilot," he said, indicating a switch by my left hand. "Turn it off." I did so, grimacing as the _Strahl_ began to list alarmingly.

Balthier was calmly unconcerned.

"That's all right – left hand's the rudder, take it nice and smooth... careful now, don't choke it..." In response, I pushed the rudder almost infinitesimally, having no effect at all. Balthier chuckled.

"My girl may be fickle, Siyana," he said, "but she's not _that _sensitive." Abashed, I tried a bit harder and corrected the port angle. Too much, however, because it then began to cant to starboard. This awkward tug-of-war continued for a few agonizing seconds before Balthier intervened.

"Darling, she's being difficult because you're not giving her her head. She'll be easier if you let her go faster."

Gulping, it was with no small trepidation that I slowly increased the throttle.

And suddenly, everything was clear. The alloy seemed possessed of an electric charge and the controls were contoured to my hand where they hadn't been before, begging me to give it even more. Giving hardly a thought to what I was doing, I obliged.

And we were swooping through the air, at speeds which my self of previous seconds would have balked at. Everything was so simple, so effortless! I could feel the joy of flight, not only as myself – it was the joy of the _Strahl_ herself.

"Oh," I said, as I understood. "_Oh!_"

Balthier laughed, in a way I knew he could only when he was on the _Strahl_ and I was the only one with him.

"I get it now," I continued, still in awe. "I thought I understood before, but now..." I smiled. "She's just like you!"

He placed his hand over mine on the throttle, but still let me control it as I soared.

And oh, I loved him so.

As the sun set over the treetops beneath us, tinting them so many different hues of crimson, orange, and gold, Balthier spoke up.

"We should reach Bur-Omisace by mid-morning tomorrow."

The diffusing rays of the sun reflected off the hull, blinding me slightly. The dark green of trees were all I could see.

"I didn't know Golmore was so _big_," I mused, half paying attention.

"We walked through only a very small portion in our travels," Balthier explained. "In fact, only a very small portion is passable – unless you happen to be a viera."

The second half of his sentence was lost on me. "Tomorrow?" I gasped.

Balthier's eyes turned sad, but he didn't have a chance to say anything, because the simple dread of the time limit, which had been obvious and I had been expecting, struck me full force nonetheless. Tomorrow all of this would be over. Tomorrow Balthier would not be with me.

"Oh _gods_!" I exclaimed in a harsh whisper – I felt terrible about it afterwards, for going to pieces like that, especially when I'd sworn to myself I wouldn't, and it was useless since I'd known it was coming. "It's not... not enough time..."

And Balthier's hands were framing my face, forcing me to meet his eyes.

"Are you absolutely certain? Absolutely sure you want to do this? Because if not, we will turn around _right now_."

A tempting offer. Oh, so tempting.

Which was why it had to be avoided.

"No. I can do this." I was glad my voice sounded more firm than I actually was.

Balthier looked at me, and it was a look I'd never received before – it was like he was gazing into my soul, deeper and more penetrating than anything I knew. I stared back, enthralled, my brief fit passing in the blink of an eye.

"Are you _sure_?" he repeated. I got the feeling that whatever answer I gave would be the right one, as long as it was completely true.

"Yes," I said calmly.

And then Balthier was kissing me, fiercely, desperately. It was one of the few times he had been the one to initiate a kiss, and all rational thought fled my mind as I clung to him.

He started the kiss, and he had to end it, pulling back to blaze me with his eyes. He knew I was right.

"Siyana." His voice was quiet, urgent. "Please."

I stared. I had never heard him say it like that before – it had always been my place to plead. I nodded.

He reached over and pushed the button to page the engine room.

"Nono, do you mind if we start the shift change a little early tonight?"

There was a brief, knowledgeable silence on the other end.

"Very well, kupo." If the diminutive creature could have made her voice suggestive, she would have. "I'll be up in a few moments." The line cut off.

I looked at Balthier. "There." Humour sparked in his eyes, but he didn't smile as he engaged the auto pilot and slid his arm around my waist.

Out in the hallway, we passed Nono, who sidled a glance our way, but said nothing as she bustled up to the cockpit. Moogles, because of their size, had no need for extended periods of sleep, instead snatching naps at various points throughout the day, making them the perfect choices for night watch.

For all my various trips on the _Strahl_, it was the first time I'd seen Balthier's bedroom. It lay at the end of the hall, and aside from a small, elegant piece of knotwork (the same shade as the golden highlights in his hair) marking it as his own, the door was unremarkable. What did set it apart was just that – a vague perception of separation that accompanied inmost sanctums, one that despite my great love for Balthier and an instinctive curiosity, I had never felt the desire to penetrate. This place, more than anywhere else in the world, was Balthier's true home, his sanctuary. An old instinctual reluctance born of his initial secrecy and fierce protection of his privacy woke in me. Balthier, too, looked slightly nervous, but he smiled as he opened the door.

It was not what I would have expected, and at the same time, all that I had imagined. A coverlet so dark a red it was nearly black went over a bed (with no posts, I couldn't help noticing – if we were to play bondage he'd have to chain me to the legs, which was more restrictive and infinitely more fun) that dominated most of the room. The metal alloy of the walls had been covered with priceless (stolen) paintings and artifacts were prominently displayed. The room was aglow with light, provided by stones in holders delicately designed and made of gold or crystal. The window was a section of the dome of glass that sheltered the top of the _Strahl_ – it was framed by custom-sized silk drapes. The whole picture was something so tasteful, luxuriant, and quintessentially _Balthier _that even if I had seen a memogram of it without knowing whose it was, I would have been able to guess him as the owner.

"Well," Balthier said at last, "what do you think?" He acted casual but I could see that he cared, very much, about what I thought.

"It's beautiful," I whispered, still gazing around in awe. I adored it. Only his kiss could have torn me away from the spectacle of his room, and it did so – forcibly. Afterwards, it served to remind me why we were here, and just like the first night, this kiss needed a follow up.

"My turn," I said with a grin, and knelt to undo his pants.

He stopped me, and at this unexpected gesture I looked up in surprise, briefly disoriented by the different angle.

"Siyana." There was a warning in his tone. But I shook my head.

"Ffamran, please. I _want_ to do this."

He considered, nodded, allowed me to continue, first checking to see how much I meant it. This time there was no playing: I took the whole of his shaft into my mouth at once, and I heard Balthier's sharp intake of breath above me with a glow of subtle triumph. I'd always loved knowing that I could affect him. Then I stopped thinking for a while and just indulged in my years of training, which could have been leading to the joy of pleasuring him. I uttered a deep, stifled moan as he moved within me.

He growled, thrusting against me, sending spurt after spurt of seed down my throat, surprising me only slightly because he was rarely reactionary like this. I led a trail of kisses up to his lips, but once there he took control – firmly.

"Did I ever tell you you're amazingly good at that?" he asked when I'd finished.

"Did I ever tell you that you're an extraordinary kisser?" I returned, and he gave a small grin.

"If not, it bears repeating."

A smile more genuine than I would have thought possible crossed my face. "Well, then." I gathered myself as he went to sit on the plush armchair in the room and rose to straddle his lap, sitting on his knees. We regarded one another. "I love you," I said – it was another thing that bore repeating. "That's why I understand that you have to do this. I do. I suggested it. And I swear to you, I will wait for you, as long as it takes. But, truly, it will be the most difficult thing I've ever done."

He wound a lock of my hair around his fingered. "And this helps?"

"Yes." I traced his lower lip. "If nothing else, I want to leave here with the memory of you inside me. Everywhere."

He picked me up, cradling me in his arms and carrying me to the bed, which was neatly made. He undressed me, with the same care and devotion as he might give a precious object. Having never been on the receiving end of such skillful treatment, I found it almost intoxicating. I ended up on my stomach. I turned my head and watched as he went to fetch a bottle of oil from his bureau.

"Everywhere?" he asked softly, spreading a trail down my spine. It was scented – with Galbana lilies. I shivered, then nodded, wordless.

Balthier was an accomplished masseur, somehow – I'd stopped wondering how he'd picked up such a variety of unrelated skills. He worked the oil into my skin, lower and lower. It made my body feel warmer, comfortably heavy, and wonderfully relaxed, the tension of my muscles from the effort of holding myself together gradually eased away. I made no resistance as he pulled me to my knees, spreading my buttocks with both hands. I braced myself on my elbows and shuddered when Balthier touched the tip of his tongue to the puckered rose there. Shuddered harder when he slid one oiled finger into me, then two. With his other hand, he caressed my pearl. He was all around me, within me, and I cried out, convulsing around his fingers.

At that he slid his fingers out of me. They were replaced by the swollen head of his phallus, positioned at my rear entrance, prodding. I gasped.

He eased it into me, slowly. We both caught our breath when he breached the first ring of muscles. Ah, gods! I was so tight it nearly hurt, but it was so good, too. Inch by inch, he sank into me, until he was sheathed to the hilt, his purses pressed against my swollen nether lips. I turned my head on the pillow, suffused with unspeakable pleasure.

"So full," I whispered.

He withdrew a few inches, then thrust slowly back into me. It was hard and painful and entirely too agonizingly slow. I slid one hand between my thighs, rubbing. Faster. I thrust my hips backward to receive him, urging him on. Faster, harder; full, deep strokes. He dug his fingers into my flesh, leaving bruises, his breath ragged. The sensation when I climaxed was indescribable, sending him over the edge in an excruciating spasm of pleasure, buried deep inside me.

For a long moment, neither of us moved.

He rested his cheek on my back. "I'll miss this."

"I know," I said quietly.

He had to move – I couldn't. My limbs felt heavy, my entire body languid with pleasure, the feel of him lingering inside like an after-image. Balthier pulled away slowly, his softening phallus slipping from me. I sighed and rolled over. He lay beside me.

He began to kiss me. He kissed me everywhere that night – the soles of my feet, the inside of my wrists, my palms, behind my ears. His tongue traced the lines of my mark. He kissed the tip of my nose, my eyelids, the top of my head, the base of my neck, each one of my fingers, my nipples. When at last his lips had touched every inch of skin on my body, he held me, cradling me to him. He closed his eyes. "I should go check on Nono... In a moment."

"It can wait." I pulled him closer to me, twining my hands in his hair. "Stay here a while."

"All right," he murmured.

Which of us fell asleep first, I couldn't say. I heard his slow, steady breathing deepen, felt his limbs growing lax. And then there was only darkness, warmth, and peace, the low hum of the _Strahl_'s engines, the smell of lovemaking and the cinnamon-sweet scent of his hair. I slept and dreamed of joy.

* * *

**A/N: **I figured there hadn't been a lemon-y chapter for a little bit. Hope you enjoyed it! Up next: Blayne! (I wonder if people have been missing him?)


	47. Kiss Me Goodbye

**Disclaimer: **Every sky pirate needs a disclaimer, right?

**A/N: **We have arrived at last: the final chapter! It has taken me much longer to finish posting this story than I anticipated and for that I give my deepest apologies. To all those who have stuck with this story from beginning to end to those who are here for their first time, thank-you so very, very much! For my many lovely reviewers, I appreciate you, from the bottom of my heart. You were my inspiration and my motivation and I will miss you! We've been through a lot with this story, and if it was half as fun to read as it was to write, that would make me very happy.

A special acknowledgement goes out to my trial reader and sa-ae, Sholosha-chan, and thank-you also to the people at Square who made such a wonderful game with engaging characters providing me hours of entertainment. I have truly enjoyed this journey, and I hope you, my reader, did too.

Now, on to the tale!

* * *

I was glad of that, because when I woke there was very little joy left in me. I stared at Balthier, feeling the beginning of my endless plunge into the yawning abyss I had prepared for myself. We were leaving an awful lot up to chance, trusting it to bring us together as it usually did. And it was my experience that the time you counted on your luck was when it failed you. I was strangely calm. I wondered if his was the quiet before the storm of the breakdown which would occur once he had gone. I kept staring at him as he slept, noting the miniscule details that I loved about him: the way that tiny piece of hair fell just so over his brow, the fact that he had one brow naturally arched, even while sleeping. He had the kind of eyelashes that girls would kill for and men didn't care about – they were long and nearly blond and cast shadows on his cheeks when he slept. His hands – long-fingered, slender, pianist's hands – were out upon the pillow, and I fought the urge to stroke them, for the touch would surely wake him and I hoped to prolong the inevitable. I wished, however futilely, that he could keep sleeping forever and that I could stay there, just staring at him. My heart was trembling; singing and aching at the same time.

"I wish I had been born as your heart," I said, once he stirred – the words had been created in some place that was not my mind. I hadn't meant to speak them, but I had. "Then I could always be with you. If you died, Ffamran, I could die with you."

His eyes were deep and profound and surprisingly alert.

"But then, I couldn't even kiss you," he replied, proceeding to do so, so gently and full of love that I didn't need more.

"I always knew," I said quietly. "Ever since the beginning, I knew this was how it was going to be. Part of why I love you so desperately, I suppose. I didn't care then, and I don't now." I met his eyes frankly. "I mean it. I'd do it all over, if I could – every bit of it. I wouldn't change a thing."

"Not even the parts where you cried?" he murmured, bringing his face closer to mine. "The parts where I hurt you?" I shook my head. "Of course not. Those things are a part of me now, just as you are. And if I didn't understand what it truly means to love you, what sort of love could I give you? And what sort of person would I have been, had I never learned what it is to tap into that deep, abiding portion of my soul?"

"A happier one, certainly." He kept his words light. I considered his answer seriously. "No. A lesser one, inferior. Infinitely more miserable and lacking. And the most dreadful thing is, I wouldn't have known it." My gaze shifted curiously. "What about you?"

"My only regret," he answered, "is that I never found you sooner."

I gave a half smile. That, then, was the crux of the matter. But it did no good, reflecting on what might have been. At the least, it was a waste of time.

Time was one thing we certainly didn't have.

"We approach Mt. Bur-Omisace." Nono's voice squeaked over the speaker patched through into the captain's quarters. Balthier's grip tightened almost imperceptibly. The voice paused. "I'm sorry, Captain, but you're needed up here." The line cut off.

Balthier let out a long sigh that sounded like it contained all the air in his body, holding me to him so tightly it seemed he'd never let me go.

Then he did. "All right. Come on."

I followed him to the cockpit, taking notice of the bright flashes of colour and ornamentation that, more than anything else, had become home to me over the past months. Nono flitted up out of her seat, looking sorrowful.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, her eyes lingering anxiously on us. Balthier nodded, and I copied his gesture. _The last in a while, I suspect, _I thought, but said nothing.

The mountain lay beneath us, snow capped and bathed in sunlight. Of course there was no aerodrome, but there was a pad for incoming ships. As Balthier began slowly to take the _Strahl_ down, half of me screamed to stop him, to turn the ship around and fly away and never, ever, stop; the half of me that didn't want to believe that we'd been through all hell, learned so much about each other and ourselves, only to come right back where we'd started.

But if I hadn't experienced so much, I might not have known that this was the right thing to do. And one day I would have woken to find that I'd lost Balthier, much more permanently than I was losing him now.

As the _Strahl_ gently came to a stop, Balthier cut the power and turned to look at me. In his eyes I saw all the things he couldn't voice – everything that had passed between us. He didn't try to address them.

"Are you ready for this, love?"

Even now, he gave me a choice. But it was far too late to turn back now. I took a deep breath and held it. "Let's go."

When we exited the _Strahl, _we were met by a small welcoming party. They were unarmed and their expressions were cautiously friendly. One who I assumed to be their leader stepped forward.

"All are welcome on the holy mountain," he said, "but we were not informed of your arrival. What are your names and your business, that we may know how to assist you?"

"My name is Siyana, and this is Balthier." At the famous name, the leader shot a quick glance in Balthier's direction and was rewarded with a sardonic smile. I remembered belatedly that the party had been there before. "I've come seeking Blayne, I was told he was here."

"I am Ilfohr, head carpenter," the man said, "and you were told correctly. You may find Blayne in the temple grounds – he is repairing the damage caused by the Imperial squadron that overran us." He pointed.

"My thanks," I told him, and set off in the direction indicated, Balthier behind me. When we approached, Blayne was halfway up a ladder, securing a brace.

"I know those engines," he said, without turning. "And I must admit, I never expected I'd hear them again."

"Did you think so little of me, then, when we met?" My voice was steady, betraying nothing of my nervousness. I had Balthier beside me. I could face anything as long as that was true.

Now Blayne turned, descending the ladder, looking at the two of us (and our clasped hands) with appraisal. "Well, well." His face was neutral. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. "Now I'm most certainly wondering why you've come back."

"Blayne-" Balthier began in a warning tone, but I motioned him for silence.

"I take my responsibilities seriously," I told Blayne. "And I had one to Balthier which superseded yours. He gave me the gift of my life. I returned the favour. And along the way we discovered that we belong together." I looked him square in the eye. "And if you deny that you set it up that way, I will leave right now."

Balthier looked startled. Blayne merely looked annoyed.

"Obviously I ain't denying it. But you sure as hell took long enough."

I shrugged. You may find the results worth the wait." I handed him my licence card. As he scanned it, I watched his eyes widen. He let out a mild oath, looking at me with new respect as he handed back the card.

"I'm serious – why the hell are you here?"

"Because," I said simply, "I owe you."

Blayne exhaled in a big gust. "Huh. I guess you do."

"Will you still have me?" I inquired. This was it.

He appeared to deliberate. "I'm almost done here anyway. The _Shera _leaves tonight. If you want to be on it, be here."

I nodded. "Understood. Thank-you."

He returned my nod, switching his attention to Balthier, inclining his head in curiosity.

"I confess," he said slowly, "I knew Siyana here had charms to melt the heart of man, but gods! I was certain you were locked away for good."

Balthier looked down at me. "I was," he said. "She was the key."

To my surprise, a spasm of anger crossed Blayne's face. "Or maybe you've just used her and're now discarding here, like you did all the others."

"No! You don't understand –" I began, but this time Balthier silenced me.

"Let's get one thing straight," he said coolly. "I love her. I was fully prepared to steal her away from you, like you must have thought. She was the one who insisted she had to come back. If I hadn't had a heist underway, I might not have agreed. But see here – " and he became angry in his turn – "Siyana is the most precious thing in the world to me. She came here knowing fully that you probably weren't the most kindly disposed to her right now. If you mistreat her even slightly, allow _any _hurt to come to her…" His eyes were like chips of ice. "You will find us rivals in deadly earnest. And if it is the last thing I do on this earth, I will make it my business to hunt you down and kill you."

Amazement was plain on Blayne's face. I'd never heard Balthier talk so either, and I'd been open-mouthed with shock since he'd admitted to his rival that he loved me. I was further stunned when Blayne nodded.

"Fair enough." He turned his smiling eyes on me. "But I daresay she can do a better job of taking care of herself than I could." I grinned back.

Balthier's voice was distantly courteous. "Just so we're clear."

Blayne gave a sardonic salute. "Understood." He became serious once more. "Now, I've got a job to finish. I'm sure you two wouldn't mind some time alone." His tone was mocking at the end, but only slightly. He started to ascend the ladder again.

Balthier indicated with a jerk of his head a place a small distance away where we could talk without being overheard. I followed him, the same slight smile on my face that he'd had the day before.

"How can you be so set on going back to such a right royal pain in the ass?" He asked in a low, urgent voice. I suppressed the urge to laugh.

"Is it my fault that your personalities rub each other the wrong way?" I asked. "He's a good man and a great partner, and I got along fine on my own before you started taking an interest."

He sighed. "I suppose. It's just… he's so maddening!"

"Only to you," I retorted, and he subsided. "Have you ever been here before, Siyana?" he asked solicitously. Slightly suspicious, I responded. "You know I haven't." He smiled. "I was so hoping you'd say that. I want to show you something."

He led me right to the edge of the path, where a low brick wall was all that separated the walkers from endless sky. We were so high up, that was how it seemed – the mountain face was so steep that the only place not sheer rock was a hundred feet down. I gasped, getting the tingling feeling in the pit of my stomach usually associated with great heights; the fear, not that I would fall, but that I would _jump_. I'd never had much of a sense of self-preservation, and my body seemed to have taken it upon itself early on to prevent temporary fits of insanity. Ignoring the feeling, I went to sling my legs over the side, sitting on the wall, clouds below my feet. It made me slightly queasy, but mostly I just felt exhilarated. A piercing mountain breeze was blowing, airing out all the dirty, clouded emotions in me and leaving serenity in its place. I could see why the early pilgrims had chosen to build their shrine here, and why it still held such a religious attraction – I could feel the presence of the Father, Faram, in the strong lines of stone and in the free gusting wind.

Then Balthier's presence was beside me, bringing me back to earth with his fingers through mine, and I knew that his love was the closest I would get to the divine in this life. He was completely at ease sitting at the edge of the world, in contrast to my electric excitement.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"It's beautiful," I replied. "But I hesitate to say that with a certain someone sitting here in comparison." He chuckled softly and I leaned my head against his shoulder, breathing of the clean mountain air and looking down at the clouds.

"Did you mean it?" I said at last.

"Mmm?" Balthier had the air of someone pulled out of deep thought.

"About hunting Blayne down and killing him?

"Mm." He looked down at me. "Every word, love. I have been more serious only once before in my life." He clearly expected the subject to be exhausted, but I still had questions. "Is that a lack of faith in Blayne, or in me?"

"Neither." At my look, he appeared to reconsider. "Perhaps a bit of the former. Never the latter."

I grinned. "What, then?" I asked, half-teasing."

His lips lingered on the hollow at the base of my throat. "It's just that it won't be _me_," he admitted. "You taking on Ba'Gamnan's gang…" he shook his head slowly, running his lips along my collarbone, "you have no idea how that still haunts me. If anything had happened to you…" He looked at me frankly, tenderly, brushing a lock of hair from my forehead. "Even if you were level 99 with the Zodiac Spear, I would still worry about you," he told me. "You're not the only one allowed to be anxious, you know." He grinned crookedly. My breath caught, and he took the opportunity to part my lips with his tongue. I might have lost my balance, had he not been my anchor. I was briefly distracted, but before long I was back on track.

"You _will_ be careful, won't you?" I begged him, unable to keep the tone of desperate concern from my voice. "These are ancient gods you're trifling with, and I doubt they'll suffer you to just walk out with the Cache."

He traced my lips with a finger. "Point taken, my sweet," he assured me, "but I've had experience trifling with old gods."

"Just be safe," I repeated, and he agreed seriously. My survival was tied to his, after all.

"Tell me truly, Siyana." Balthier's voice broke the brief silence. "You trust me, for whatever reasons. And you love me. I've accepted that now. But will you be okay with this?"

I nodded. "I've told you I will be, and it's true. But if you want my honest answer, I will not be complete until I'm back with you."

He went to put his arms around me, appeared to think better of it, and folded his hands in his lap. "What can I do?"

My gaze met his. When I spoke, I hoped to gods that my voice did not sound as small and weak as it felt. "Hold me?"

He pulled me close against his chest. The sensation of being enveloped by his strong presence here at the edge of the world, that even now threatened to pull me over, truly had no comparison. Balanced perfectly between the two diametric opposites, I listened to his breathing, deep and steady against my intermittent breaths. The wind turned very cold and I shivered against him. His rhythm never ceased. He breathed in tumult and breathed out calm.

Over and over.

And bit by bit, my body eased.

Moments pass by most fleetingly when you most want to savour them, so it might have been minutes or hours that I sat on that wall, being held by the center of my existence. My eyes were closed, so it was only a change in the progression of Balthier's breathing that alerted me to the fact that the sky was dimming and twilight had come. I looked up into Balthier's eyes as he looked into mine, both wondering who would speak first. I was trying to summon the courage to do so, but there was no need.

"I don't want to give him any excuses," Balthier murmured. "I won't wait until he comes to get us."

I nodded. "I understand."

We extricated ourselves from the wall and our embrace. I felt with a distinct wave of panic his hands slipping from mine, and my gaze flashed to his face, which was cautious – more distant.

"No," I whispered. "Not here. Not now. Please."

Balthier shook his head. "It's the only way for me, love. I'm sorry."

I hesitated, but I knew it was true. And if it made it easier for him, it could only be the height of selfishness to demand mine.

"I know," I said, bestowing a much softer kiss than the one I wanted to take. "Let's go, love," I murmured. "It's now or never."

Balthier said nothing, merely rose and returned the kiss. If there was a way to be sure that the glint I had seen was a single silver tear tracing its solitary way down his cheek before he quickly turned away, I am sure it would have been the single most moving moment of my life. As it was, I hold it in my heart even to this day.

Blayne eyed the two of us, but declined to comment. "You ready to go, then?" he asked me. I could but nod.

Outside the hatch of the _Strahl_ was where the dream ended at last. I looked across the distance at Balthier – inches had never seemed so wide – raising my hand to touch his face.

"Good luck," I wished him. I didn't cry – the matter still too near for tears. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

Balthier placed his hand atop mine. "Thank-you." His forehead rested against mine as he closed his eyes, preparing himself. With a little sigh, he pulled away. I was left standing, yearning for more. I shook my head rhythmically, side to side. It couldn't end like this. "Balthier!" I cried, and ran to him. He turned to receive me with a quirked eyebrow, sardonic as ever. But the look in his eyes said '_This time, you're right._' I managed a semblance of a grin. "Kiss me goodbye?"

"Not goodbye." But he acquiesced.

I had thought, upon his first kiss, that if I had experienced no other in my life I would have been happy.

Had I missed this one, I would have been bereft.

Once again, he had to end the kiss he'd begun, and when he did so, he gazed into my face with eyes of molten fire.

"I love you," he said. "Very, very much."

My throat was tight, almost so I couldn't speak – but I managed it.

"I love you, too."

Balthier cocked a smile. "Always."

"Goodbye, Ffamran," I whispered. His look told me he'd caught the nuance. He took my hand and kissed it, ever so lightly – like the touch of butterfly wings.

"Farewell, my love." He touched my face one last time, with that halfway-to-wistfulness look that was the closest he ever got to regret, then turned away. I felt his departure the way you would feel the loss of an arm or a leg – nothing at first, but promising a life of phantom pains when you least expected it. I turned to Blayne, who had been standing there completely ignored by the both of us. His eyes were wide, apparently shocked by our farewell, but he blinked and the moment was gone.

"So you weren't ready," he grumbled to me.

"Well, now I'm as ready as I'll ever be," I temporized, and he led the way into the _Shera_.

I was just at the foot of the stairs and _Balthier_ had nearly disappeared into the _Strahl_ when I said the last thing that needed to be said.

"Oh, and Balthier?" I called back. He turned at once, smiling his insouciant smile.

"Yes, my darling?" I inclined my head. "See you around."

He flourished a bow. "Indeed, fairest Siyana."

I went to catch up with Blayne, so I didn't see how Balthier lingered by the hatch until I boarded – the _Strahl_, however, was the first to take off, and I watched till it was lost to sight. I felt the chill emptiness I'd expected, but unlike the gaping hole in my chest that I'd endured the last time, instead I felt like a tree that had been struck by lightning, all its insides flashed away. And beneath that, there was a subtle tugging ache, like a bruise, pulling always in one direction – towards him.

As I looked around me at the _Shera_'s cockpit, the surroundings grown more unfamiliar than I would have liked to admit: more utilitarian than the gold-gilded _Strahl_ – a good metaphor for the way my life would be for the next while – I caught Blayne watching me.

"You really loved him, huh?" he asked, surprise colouring his voice. "You'd think you two were going to be apart forever."

And it was forever, for each second contained its own eternity. "I did. And I do. Always and always."

He looked vaguely startled that anyone could give that response in relation to Balthier. My gaze faltered as the bruise of my heart fluttered, as the phantom pains reminded me, in their paradoxical way, that I was missing something by making me feel it was there. "Are you OK?" Blayne inquired, genuinely concerned.

I nodded, lifting my face to the bright blue, cloud-puffed sky. "I will be."

And I knew as I said it that it would be true.

A month or so later, Blayne and I had just pulled into the Balfonheim aerodrome for routine maintenance when the attendant we registered with stopped me.

"Excuse me, miss, but is your name Sephira?"

I was used to travelling under my alias by now, so I responded in the affirmative. She handed me a plain white envelope. "This arrived about a week ago by courier. The instructions were to deliver it to a Sephira on the crew of the _Shera_, which would seem to indicate you as the recipient." I nodded my thanks and flipped the envelope over, curious. I'd never been sent a letter before. Sure enough, neatly across the center in writing I knew better than my own was the name _Sephira_. There were no other markings. My heart faltered to a stop, then skidded back to leap in my chest. Only long discipline stopped me from ripping it open there in the middle of the aerodrome. I think my hands were trembling from the effort.

Blayne raised an inquisitive eyebrow. I shook my head infinitesimally and slipped the letter into my satchel.

While we ran our errands, the letter burned a hole in my satchel, the temptation to keep taking it out to assure myself that it was real nearly overpowering. When Blayne stepped into the Whitecap and I could practically see Balthier waving me over from the table in the corner, the letter (and my heart) throbbed and I had to duck out.

At last, we were back aboard the _Shera_. I raced to my room, I tore open the envelope with shaking fingers, safe in the privacy. When I caught sight of the oh-so familiar script filling the page, my eyes blurred with tears such that it was almost impossible to read. I dashed them away impatiently and tried again.

_Dearest Siyana,_ it began – I let out a little involuntary sound, heart swelling in my throat.

_Surprised? I know I am. Fran is dictating this whole letter, certain that I don't know how to do it. It's true, I've never written one before, but I think I can handle it. It's usually best to give Fran what she wants, however, so here goes:_

_I am discomfited, away from you. I would not be adverse to seeing you again, should the Fates decree it. I am hopeful that the status of your health is satisfactory, and that you will succeed in all of your endeavours._

_... Gods, that was dreadful, wasn't it? My lovely partner is gone now, under the pretence of finding a messenger pigeon to carry this. I am rather inclined to believe that the preceding paragraph was Fran's message to you, and she just didn't want to say it. Surely _I_ would never say anything so clinical._

_What can I say? Fran was right, I really am no good at this. Yes, I miss you, and it's a rather odd sensation, let me tell you. Fran and I are in Bervernia now, still searching for clues. Vaan and Penelo have already paid us a visit - I'd forgotten how infernally loud that boy can be. Penelo is lovely as ever; she's really grown up. I suppose one of them has to._

_I hope you and Blayne are doing well (I still can't believe you two are partners). In case you're wondering, yes, I still love you. (That looks odd on paper, doesn't it?) I love you, and I miss you, and I'm rather hoping that we'll manage to cross paths sometime. I hope you're taking care of my ring._

_There. I think that's everything. Gods, I've just re-read this letter, and it really is a mess. I hope you'll forgive me my incompetence. Hopefully the next ones will get better. (Yes, there will be others. Fran insists, and I would 'not be adverse' to obeying her orders in this case). _

_Be safe._

_**Ffamran**_

I pressed the letter to my heart, bending my head over it. I was silent. I stayed thus for so long that Blayne rapped on my door, tone warring between bemusement and concern.

"What is it? Is everything all right?" For a moment, I contemplated describing the vast, complicated tangle of emotion that the wry, familiar voice speaking out of the paper had provoked.

Two unprepared parents, abandoning their daughter into terrible circumstances.

A beautiful, wounded young man with a streak of chivalry and love that the world had not managed to beat out of him, finding there when he would not have anywhere else.

A world-savvy sky pirate, with enough of a deeply-hidden heart to aid me in finding him again.

A common soldier with such inherent nobility that no cruelty or injustice could tarnish it, who had consented to be my strength and to release me when I no longer needed him.

A long-wandering outcast who was the sister I'd never had – and a little bit more.

There were others. The tutor who had honed my unlikeliest of gifts, the deposed princess who taught me the value of strength, but also of weakness. The young thief's girl who had shown me the meaning of friendship, the impetuous orphan who, by example, had allowed me to listen to my heart. I could see them all now as threads in the skein of my life, guiding me to my rightful place in the world, simultaneously delivering this letter into my hands.

Would any of this have happened had my parents done otherwise?

Some things are not given us to know.

With so many demonstrations of courage, loyalty, strength, cheerfulness, determination, generosity, impulsiveness, compassion and, ah gods, _love_, love above all, that flashed through my head, I found that all I could say was "Yes."

Were it not for them, Balthier might never have had occasion to write a single letter in his life. I was the first, the only person he had left behind but with whom he had willingly kept ties. It may be self-centered of me to say, but I believe I retained this distinction, remained the only one he ever wrote to.

He still loved me. He'd said so himself. My heart was true as a compass, turning to him, always. One day, we would find each other again, find in each other all those gifts the others who had touched our lives had seen fit to impart us.

Against all odds, I had succeeded in proving to myself, proving to the world, that not only was I good enough for Balthier, but that he was mine and I was his, and without each other, our place in the world would never be complete. We belonged together, forever and always.

Not bad for a one night romance.

_**THE END**_

**

* * *

****A/N: **Hooray! Thanks for reading! Until next time, this is Pellaaearien, signing off! ;D


	48. Siyana's Suite

**Disclaimer: **(A serious one for once, sorry!) I do not own any of the songs mentioned in this chapter. Nor do I represent any of the artists, their managers, their labels, nor imply any connection between them and Square Enix other than the ones I have drawn for my own entertainment and that of others. All songs belong to their respective (cited!) owners, and Final Fantasy XII belongs to Square Enix and their affiliates. The character of Siyana is mine. So don't sue me, please!

**A/N: **Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! (If you celebrate another holiday, please insert the appropriate greeting.) To celebrate the **second** anniversary of _Good Enough_, I would like offer the ranks of the playlist I have been obliquely referring to through various chapters. I can't believe it's been two years, and I'd like to thank my many, many wonderful reviewers. If you are someone who doesn't think a playlist consisting of songs drawn from my admittedly ecclectic musical tastes consitutes a proper thanks, I must beg your indulgence for a little while longer: I have a "Christmas Special" little short in the works, but since I didn't have the foresight to begin work on it _before_ Christmas, it's not ready yet. I apologize for my ridiculous sense of timing. After that, I have a few other shorts that need some polishing up before they're ready for publication (quite a few, because I'm having a love affair as intense as Balthier and Siyana's with their love affair itself... just one of many occupational hazards I encounter as a fanfiction author). In the meantime, take a look at some of the songs on the playlist! Every song on it has some kind of connection to the story, interspersed with songs from the actual videogame soundtrack, which I exluded from the already lengthy playlist. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

"Lithium" – Evanescence

~Siyana Prelude~

Abandoned into terrible circumstances by her own parents, Siyana knows a lot about suffering. But she takes it as a part of her new life and tries to like it as much as she can – though as the song suggests, she's not very happy about it.

"Raindrops" – Stunt (Pair-POV)

~The Meeting~

The first impression Siyana has of Balthier is a very sensory one. She doesn't see him at first, but feels him in every part of her body. Balthier, though less sensitive to it, is no less moved, and both are at pains to conceal it.

"Anything for You" – Evanescence

~Balthier's Mind Games~

Though Siyana is determined not to let Balthier get to her, his mind games take over nevertheless and she truly feels the sentiments in the song – though she is surely not going to let _him_ know that!

"LONGING" (Instrumental) – Gackt

~Looking for Balthier~

Siyana's life with Blayne is very fulfilling and rewarding, but she cannot forget the longing she has to see Balthier again. Her two duties have not come into conflict yet, but will they?

"Walking at Night, Alone" – Armor for Sleep

~The Sandsea~

When she meets Balthier, Siyana's encounter inevitably turns into a brief seduction followed by amazing sex. But all through the night, Siyana is seized by the (entirely rational) fear that Balthier will leave her at the end. She doesn't want him away from her side, but she must come to terms with the fact that Balthier does not form attachments. She resolves not to give up on her feelings and to keep pursuing her love.

"Midnight Coward" – Stars (Pair-POV)

~Denial~

It becomes increasingly obvious during their interlude that distance and time has not changed anything between them, that despite their best efforts, Siyana and Balthier have a connection that does not depend on emotion or even interest. Balthier is supremely concerned with not looking like he cares, and Siyana, though she cares deeply, pretends she doesn't in order to keep him near her. It is an awkward arrangement, but it works.

"Here With Me" – Dido

~After Sandsea~

Siyana wakes from the night's pleasure like the world's most amazing dream. Balthier has vanished. She feels a great regret, and she speculates upon what a life like this would truly be like – snatching Balthier only at intervals, never knowing when they might cross paths again. She's unsure about whether she can handle it.

"Miracle" – Cascada

~Together Again~

When they meet again, Balthier (and Siyana especially) are overwhelmed with emotion, and they see rather more than coincidence. Though Siyana sees (and is jealous of) Balthier's relationships with the others, she still has hope.

"Everytime We Touch" – Cascada

~The Romance~

The days and nights of companionship make Siyana and Balthier drop their barriers slightly and they enter into a tentative romance. Unrivalled in passion, but unbalanced in nature, and Balthier often withdraws for no reason whatsoever, leading Siyana to wonder yet again if she can ever be good enough for him.

"Everlong" – Foo Fighters (Pair-POV)

~Uncertainty~

Siyana doesn't know if she's the right person for Balthier – plagued by insecurities, she takes what comes and doesn't force the issue. All she knows is that when she is with Balthier she feels happy and complete. They are perfectly matched in bed and when things are going well her life with him seems like a dream. Secretly, though, she wonders how long this state of affairs can last. Balthier, too, is enjoying himself (perhaps a little too much for his taste), and has the same fear in mind.

"The Night Starts Here" – Stars

~The Affair~

The passionate romance is complicated by the unwary entrance of Basch. Now the nights are Balthier's, and the days belong to Basch. Such a compromise cannot last long.

"Emergency" – Paramore (Pair-POV)

~Tribulation~

Siyana tries and tries to get through to Balthier, and dies a little inside every time he withdraws. Balthier tries to remain aloof, to prevent exactly this outcome. (Brackets indicate Balthier)

"Stab My Back" – The All-American Rejects (Basch-POV)

~Sochen Jealousy~

The ill-advised love triangle is the fault of no single person; Basch is too naïve, Siyana too much not so, and Balthier's motives are incomprehensible. Together, each relationship seems to be headed for disaster. Can anything be done to get back on track?

"Do You Wanna" – DJ Mystik

~Balthier's Past~

Terrible things have happened to Balthier – the death of his mother, the insanity of his father, abuse by the Judges, and the betrayal of his heart by all he holds dear. Understandably, it is difficult to bring himself into a position to trust again. Siyana's persistence is all she can give him at this difficult time.

"Give Unto Me" – Evanescence

~Siyana's Feelings~

On a slightly darker note, Siyana is, at the most basic level, a masochist. And not just sexually – she loves Balthier so much that she will take the emotional pain of being with him without complaint. As if that wasn't enough, she also wants to shoulder all of Balthier's residual pain, too, so that he can be free and happy.

"Everything (…Is Never Quite Enough)" – Wasis Diop

~Tribulation~

Trouble in paradise. Siyana and Balthier gave too much, too fast, and now they're spent. Could this be the end? What does Basch think of all this?

"Melody of Agony" – Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core Soundtrack

~Pain~

Siyana has been shunned by Balthier. Her emotional state cannot be described in words.

Why – Ayaka

~Siyana's Plan~

It's time to cut to the heart of the matter. Siyana realizes that Balthier has issues in his past that he has not overcome, and she wants to help him with them, as always. Getting him to "open up", however, will be harder than ever after the scene at the Aerodrome. Her determination, however, eventually yields results.

"October" – Evanescence (Pair-POV)

~Repentance~

Siyana has succeeded in clearing the air between herself and Balthier… at least on the surface. Balthier realizes that there can be no denying these feelings. There will be many apologies and repentances in this odd relationship. But will love triumph over difference?

"Awkward Last Words" – Armor For Sleep (All-POV)

~Rebalancing~

As the party journeys through the deadly Feywood, they must keep their wits about them in order not to get killed. But now there is Basch once again complicating the issue, Balthier is still unsure, and Siyana has her inferiority complex. The balance is a difficult one to keep.

"Gimme Gotta Gimme" – DJ Mystik

~Wishes~

Balthier has made Siyana a promise, and when they return to the Manse, she intends to collect on it. All of the days and nights of being so close to Balthier without the possibility of physical gratification is torture to Siyana, and she needs only one thing to make her happy, as the song suggests.

"Hysteria" – Muse

~The Bondage Scene~

Rested, in the privacy of Balthier's quarters, and at the strongest point in their relationship so far, Siyana and Balthier embark upon the best sex either of them has ever had. Siyana's love for Balthier peaks to a nearly painful level, and Balthier is more relaxed than she has ever seen him. But whence comes that element of strangeness?

"Understanding" – Evanescence (Pair-POV)

~The Reason~

Because Siyana cannot live without him, and Balthier realizes he is relying on Siyana to support him more than he'd imagined or believes is healthy, he knows what he has to do. At last, he comes to terms with the truth of what Siyana is to him, but in the end, he cannot accept it. What he doesn't know is just how deep the knife will have to go to do it. They are too closely linked, and Balthier wonders, in his heart of hearts, if the way he feels for Siyana will ever truly change.

"Breathe No More" – Evanescence

~Betrayal~

Siyana's suspicions are finally seen to have form. Balthier seems to be in a fulfilled relationship with Ashe. This is the final confirmation of her inferiority complex – she was clearly not good enough for Balthier, as he has moved on. Siyana lets him go, wanting nothing but his happiness to the end, but inside she is a complete mess.

"Stay on the Ground" – Armor for Sleep

~…~

[Siyana cannot breathe, think, or speak.]

"In the End" – Linkin Park

~Hardship~

Siyana continues to try to endure life without Balthier, but it is the hardest thing she has ever done. Eventually, even her "moving on" becomes a mockery of all she has achieved. She feels like she should be angry, but she doesn't. She is incapable of feeling anything but the overbearing pain.

"Given Up" – Linkin Park

~Struggles~

But Siyana finds it impossible to let go of Balthier – her attempts to do so become more feeble and futile as time goes on, and eventually she gives up and accepts her semi-zombilike state as the way things will be from now on. Basch, Reddas, and Fran form her support group, but even they cannot scratch the surface of the pain she is feeling.

"The Day it Rained Forever" – Aurora

~Recovery?~

But even this cannot remain forever. While fighting Siyana regains a little bit of her former joy in life, but it is not nearly enough to erase all of her agony. She has changed into something volatile, violent, and she is not sure if this is a good thing. If it makes her feel slightly better, though, wouldn't it be best? Also, as she has always thought, being hurt by Balthier is better than not having him at all. She would prefer to cling to her memories of anguish rather than forget all that Balthier has been to her.

"_**Good Enough**_" – Evanescence

~The Turning Point~

After all the battles, all the learning, all the pain, Siyana finally knows that she is good enough for Balthier. All her wildest dreams have come true and she discovers new depths of love that she had never imagined possible. This is the happiest moment in her life, one of a joy that transcends description.

"Fulfilled Desire" – Final Fantasy VII Crisis Core Soundtrack

~Joy~

The instrumental interlude for the transcendental part of the night.

"The Price of Freedom" – Final Fantasy VII Crisis Core Soundtrack

~Sacrifice~

Winning comes with a price. So many have died along the way, given their lives for the cause. Their prowess and generosity will be sorely missed, and the ones left behind must make do with their absence and keep thoughts of them always in their hearts.

"Apocalypse Please" – Muse

~Instant of Death~

"The waves of pain that had only lapped at me before while the numbness that kept me from realizing what I did not want to know now reared high up and washed over my head, pulling me under.

I did not resurface."

"Even In Death" – Evanescence

~The Tragedy~

The unthinkable has happened. Balthier has sacrificed himself to save Rabanastre. But despite all evidence to the contrary, Siyana finds it hard to believe that Balthier is dead. She clings to the memory of him as a drowning man clutches a raft, unable to come to terms with the terrible reality and therefore unable to move on.

"Forever Walking Alone" – Dragonland

~Vindictiveness~

The only thing that keeps Siyana from crumbling in a pit of drunken despair is a tidbit of information about the possible whereabouts of Ba'Gamnan and his gang. Caught up in an emotion that she does not entirely understand, she seeks them out to kill them, thinking only of their negative connection to Balthier and how they had haunted him.

"LONGING" – Gackt

~Moving On?~

The experience of four (sort of) innocent murders changes the perspective of things for Siyana. The Garif she takes refuge with advises her to pay her debts, and so she will – starting with Basch, who kept her sane for as long as he did and supported her throughout her long, tumultuous relationship. But even this is not all it will take to enter into a fulfilled relationship, and she is tainted by the stain of her actions, both recently and in the past.

"We Are Broken" – Paramore

~Healing~

Basch and Siyana both need solace from their traumatizing experiences. Siyana feels guilty about receiving Basch's comfort, knowing the state of her own feelings, but she also needs it too much to refuse. She knows Basch deserves so much more, and also that she cannot provide it.

"Unwell" – Matchbox Twenty

~Madness~

Even with all the benefits she gets from Basch and her slump-snapping killing spree, Siyana's mind is still slightly twisted. Nothing can ever make it right again – it's just part of who she is after Balthier's death.

"Fix You" – Coldplay (Basch-POV)

~Basch's Feelings~

Basch loves Siyana, if not with the sensual passion of Balthier, but with the caring devotion of a true friend mixed in with odd sexual desires he doesn't know what to do with. All he wants is to make Siyana happy, because whatever makes her happy makes him happy, too.

"A Moment of Courtesy" – Final Fantasy VII Crisis Core Soundtrack

~Basch's Forfeit~

But when Siyana receives news of Balthier's survival, brought to her by Fran, who was also believed dead, there is no decision to be made. Balthier makes her whole; Balthier is the person she was meant to live with. Basch, realizing the pull the pirate has on Siyana, lets her go, in order to preserve her happiness. This gesture of love and friendship stays with Siyana for the rest of her life.

"In Between" – Linkin Park (Pair-POV)

~Moving On~

And so Siyana leaves Basch, but hopefully happier than she met him. Between the two men, she sees the two different people she becomes when she is with them: with Basch, responsible, sweet, and comforting, but with no depth, and with Balthier; wild, and passionate, with complete and absolute surrender. She is forced to choose the latter, because it is the person she wants to be. To be anything else would be denying her own nature, and she cannot live that way. However, she still has doubts about Balthier, and what this feigned death ploy could signify. She still feels twinges of guilt about her actions, and realizes that choosing Balthier over Basch will bring some sacrifices, but living without Balthier in her life is a sacrifice greater than she is willing to make. The two, knight and former prostitute, remain best and closest of friends.

"Ningyohime" – Tanaka Rie

~Undying Love~

Even after all he's put her through, Siyana still loves Balthier with all her body, mind, heart and soul. As she tries to find him and they meet again, she immediately forgives him even before he apologizes. She resolves never to let herself be parted from him again.

"Until Tomorrow" – Paramore

~Despair~

Still, Siyana has been hurt too deeply to recover right away, and even her instincts are working against her desire to be close to Balthier once again. She clings to hope that everything will turn out all right in the end.

"All That I'm Living For" – Evanescence

~Perspective~

But as per usual, Siyana does not blame Balthier. She retains her obsessive passion, and even though she still occasionally has her dreadful nightmares and fears, she loves him still. Content with her lot, even with the unorthodox style that Balthier has when it comes to the notion of "couple", she has no desire to repeat previous events. She also realizes that Balthier _does_ love her, in his own way, and she is mindful of this and does not expect conventional romance. It works quite well.

"Wandering on a Sunny Afternoon" – Final Fantasy VII Crisis Core Soundtrack

~Bliss~

All obstacles surmounted, all barriers dropped, there is nothing keeping Siyana and Balthier from each other. They play out the leads in a company production of _Balthier and Sephira_ as if it was always destined to be, their great passion for each other leaking out and making it the best performance anyone has ever seen. Each moment they spend together is spiritually charged and filled with love. Neither of them has ever been happier.

"Dark Blue" – Jacks Mannequin

~Fast and Furious~

Siyana and Balthier, having been separated for so long, and now finally reconciled, what occurs is an explosion of passion as the couple drowns in each other. Far from trying to keep their heads above water, they plunge willingly into a deeper relationship than either of them has ever had. The sensation is a wonderful one for both.

"Dancing With an Angel" – Double You (Pair-POV)

~The Dance~

The music Siyana and Balthier dance to during the fete.

"Luv" – Travis

~The Ultimate Love~

Though both of them are extremely satisfied and content with this wonderful relationship, after the final curtain of _Balthier and Sephira_, Balthier and Fran put together the final piece in the puzzle of the Cache of Glabados, and Siyana knows what has to happen. She has duties with Blayne that she has neglected for far too long, and she knows Balthier, as much as he loves her and wants her to be with him, cannot remain tied down for too long.

"Kiss Me Goodbye" – Angela Aki

~The End~

Understanding the fundamental desire for freedom driving Balthier, Siyana lets him go. The two of them go their separate ways, but not without hope of meeting again.

* * *

**A/N: **If you're at all interested in the specific lyrics relating to the events in the story, I will eventually have them uploaded to my long-neglected livejournal. (Key word: eventually.) I have so many scattered projects demanding my attention, though I have no one to blame for the current state of affairs but myself. Don't worry - I haven't forgotten this story, not by a long shot!

Next up: Christmas Special!


	49. Valentine's Day

For those of you who are still following this story, I'd like to inform you that I've posted a new one-shot on the site pertaining to Balthier and Siyana's relationship. It's called _My Greatest Mistake_ and I'd encourage you to take a look if you're at all interested. Thanks for coming, and I hope you enjoy!

~Pellaaearien


	50. UPDATE

UPDATE!

For anyone who's still interested in this story, I have finally posted the full text of Fran and Siyana's Name Day celebrations from Chapter 24 to my LJ account (Pellaaearien . livejournal . com – take out the spaces). I'm actually continuing to work on this story, both longer vignettes dealing with themes that I was unable to address due to the nature of the story, and also toying with the idea of 'shaving off the serial numbers' and actually working on making this story original in hopes of getting it published! I'll try to post updates as the latter progresses but it's going to be a long, long process.

In any case, I hope my readers have a lovely Valentine's Day, to those that celebrate it, and a fantastic Singles Awareness Day for those that don't. Have no fear, I'll not post anything as depressing as the short I did last year!

~ Pella


End file.
